Fair Maiden's Dream
by Lildaani
Summary: The Daydream Charm has worn off and all affected parties have returned to normal... or have they? Hermione and Draco aren't so sure. Sequel to "The Strange Daydreams of Hermione Granger."
1. Huh, Guess They Don't Really Melt

**Disclaimer:** _Hundreds of people crowd around me, all asking questions at once. _"For the last time! I DO NOT own Harry Potter! I am not J. K. Rowling in disguise!" Goddamn paparazzi.

_**IMPORTANT:**_ This is the sequel to "The Strange Daydreams of Hermione Granger" - if you haven't read that, you'll probably be a little confused.

* * *

Chapter 1 (_Huh, Guess They Don't Really Melt_)

* * *

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the courtyard. Thunder followed almost instantly, proclaiming the storm's presence over the school. Students hurried through the covered walkways next to the courtyard, enjoying the warm, clean scent of a summer storm, but not wanting to get wet.

Only a few people noticed something was off. Warm rain was nothing unusual, of course, but it was more likely to be seen during June… not December, as it was now.

Draco leaned against one of the support columns between the walkway and the courtyard, staring out into the downpour, a small frown on his face.

His frown deepened when a faint noise reached his ears, almost completely drowned out by the storm. _A ship's bell_?

"Oi!" a tall, dark-skinned boy shouted. He ran up to Draco, leaning one arm against the column opposite him and started panting. "I've been looking all over for you, mate," Blaise Zabini told him. "Prof. wants to see you before class."

Draco raised an eyebrow. There was no need to ask who Blaise meant. "Did he say why?"

Blaise laughed, "As if he'd tell _me_?"

Draco grinned at his friend. "Thanks, Zabini."

"'Course," he nodded. Pushing himself away from the stone pillar with a grunt, he walked away, lifting his hand in a wave goodbye.

Shaking his head, Draco made his way towards the dungeons. His frown returned as the inevitable question formed in his mind: What did his godfather want?

Knocking on the office door, he tried not to give away his nervousness as he waited.

"Enter," intoned his godfather, doorway creaking open of its own accord. Thunder rumbled overhead at the same instant. The room was dark, lit only by the flickering glow of the fireplace. Strange objects interred in jars loomed above on shelves, looking mysterious and disgusting in the dim light.

Draco rolled his eyes. His godfather had always been prone to theatrics. "You wanted to see me, Professor?" he asked once through the door, noting with some amusement that it ghosted shut behind him.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "Indeed. It is a… less than formal matter, however."

"Ah," Draco said, taking a seat in front of the man's desk. "Really, Severus. The door?"

His godfather chuckled and waved a hand, causing several candles along the walls to flare to life. "A third year Ravenclaw actually had the gall to approach me over a low grade, earlier. That little move sent him running back to his tower, where he belongs."

Draco chuckled appreciatively, but stopped when he saw the look Severus was giving him.

"I received a letter from your mother earlier today." Draco jerked upright in his chair at these words, and the man continued. "Your father has been… released… from Azkaban."

"He bribed his way out, you mean," Draco snorted, scowling.

His godfather frowned, but didn't deny it. "He wants to see us, after he's had a few days to recover and settle a few business difficulties."

"He's not coming _here_?" Draco questioned, alarmed.

"He is."

Draco's mouth opened, then shut. Finally he said, "I… see." He cleared his throat roughly. "When?"

"I imagine it would be this Saturday," Severus said, deadpan.

_Four days._

He stood up abruptly, hands fidgeting at his sides until he forced them into the pockets of his school robes. "If that's all…?"

Severus eyed him coolly for a moment before nodding curtly and turning his gaze to the papers on his desk.

Stalking out of his godfather's office, Draco stopped dead, three feet from the door. His fisted hands trembled within his pockets and his clenched jaw ached from the tension. Slowly he forced his muscles to relax, one by one, until he was able to walk down the hallway using his normal superior gait.

_That's right_,sneered a voice in his head. _Always the good little Malfoy – never letting your real emotions show._

He drew in a harsh breath as he stepped out into the rain-soaked air of the courtyard. This time he didn't stay under the roofing, stepping directly into the water dropping from the sky as if from buckets.

He was soaked though instantly, but he didn't care. It washed all conscious thought away, and it felt good.

* * *

Hermione jumped slightly as thunder roared directly outside her window. A high wind whipped past, rattling the glass and shrieking as it was forced to go around the high tower.

Looking at the window with confused alarm, she bit her lip. The rain had started lightly but now – this was torrential.

_Almost like a tropical storm._

Shaking her head, she gathered up her homework and slid it neatly into her bag before descending the steps leading to the common room. Harry and Ron were, as usual, playing chess.

"Come on, you lot. We don't want to be late for potions," Hermione said, shifting the weight of her bag to her shoulder.

"Checkmate," Ron announced.

Harry sighed and knocked his king over. "I dunno why I bother."

"Cheer up, Gryffin, you'll win one of these days," Ron grinned.

Hermione's head jerked up from where she'd been collecting the boys' homework into piles. "What'd you just say, Ron?" she questioned.

Ron looked at her with a puzzled expression. "I just told Harry that he'd win a chess game someday."

"Oh," she said, frowning. "I guess I just misheard."

Harry looked at her with concern, collecting his things. "You sure you're alright, 'Mione?"

He was, of course, referring to the fact that she'd been in a coma – for all intents and purposes, anyway – only the day before. She'd told them a highly glossed-over account of her dream, leaving the fact that Draco Malfoy had been there with her completely out. It had seemed wrong somehow to share all of the details, and though she had told them about Sullen N. Morose and his parrot – that one had been too good not to share – she hadn't told them about 'Gryffin' or 'Weatherby.'

She nodded, "Madam Pomfrey said the spell is completely out of my system."

The boys exchanged a worried glance, and she sighed exasperatedly. "I'm going to potions, with or without you," she declared, crossing the room and climbing through the portrait hole.

The boys quickly caught up with her, and they laughed and chatted about nothing.

"…So the chicken is flapping all around the house, right, trying to get the gnome – the twins are still denying everything and Mum's screaming at 'em. The gnome somehow gets up on the table – and of course the bloody bird is right after him –"

"Oh no, the cake…?" Hermione gasped between bouts of laughter.

Ron nodded solemnly. "The bird landed right square in the cake and splattered it everywhere. Wound up going for ice cream instead."

Harry laughed, "But did you get the gnome out of the house?"

"Oh, yeah – Mum finally found her wand and stunned the thing and tossed it out into the field. The chicken followed it out, of course, all covered in my birthday cake. 'Sides from the waste of good cake, that was a good birthday," he said, grinning.

The three shared a laugh as they turned towards the dungeon corridor, but, as usual, their spirits dampened as they neared the Potions classroom.

They entered the room quietly, finding seats together just before the bell rang. She immediately glanced around the room, frowning slightly when she saw Draco was absent. Professor Snape came into the room in his usual theatrical fashion, immediately docking points from a Ravenclaw who hadn't quite made it to his seat yet.

The trio exchanged a look; Snape was obviously in a bad mood – or worse than usual, at least.

A few minutes into Snape's lecture about Polyjuice potion, the door opened, allowing a damp-looking Draco Malfoy into the room. Snape's eyebrow rose as the boy left wet footprints on the floor, but continued his lesson without comment when Draco took his seat.

Hermione tried to catch his eye, but his attention remained firmly on the notes he was taking.

"Biased greasy bat-faced git! Can you believe that?" Ron growled.

Harry scowled, "Yeah, unfortunately. It has been happening for six years after all."

"Shh, don't attract Snape's attention," Hermione hissed, peeling her worried gaze away from Draco.

Fortunately, Professor Snape seemed to remain ignorant of their conversation for once, and the rest of the lesson passed without major incident.

* * *

Elsewhere in the castle, House Elves murmured amongst themselves in their native tongue. They could sense the changes more keenly than the wizards and witches, though they could do nothing about it.

For the past two years, the magic of the castle had been intensifying as the humans prepared for war. But now, something had shifted….

Ancient, forgotten magic was about to be awoken.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh goodness. I must apologize for the delay of getting this up. First it was writers' block, then it was perfectionism, then it was my "editor's" (-cough- more extreme -cough-) perfectionism, then a little bit from my proofreader as well!

Even this doesn't have the final approval from my "editor," but **I** was getting impatient - I can't imagine how you, the reader, feels...

On that note -cowers- please don't throw rotten vegetables (or fruit!) at me! I know this chapter wasn't the best, but I promise more whackyness and romance and stuff later!

Also - I don't know when I'll have the next chapter up. I'm still suffering a _wee_ bit of that writer's block.

So, sorry for making you wait. To quik-wit, Lya Darkfury, the ever-so-mysterious # and (dollar sign), and everyone else who reviewed the first one, and everyone who will reviews this one - I LOVE YOU GUYS -sappy music!-


	2. Ruminations, Rumors, and Romance

**Disclaimer:** I have brown hair, blue-green-brown (depends on the light, seriously) eyes, I'm on my computer 10 hours a day - who am I?

Answer: A fanfiction author who would prefer not to get sued.

* * *

Chapter 2 (_Ruminations, Rumors, and Romance_)

* * *

_She whirled_,_ hair swinging from under her green bandanna_,_ eyes sparking dangerously in the dim light_._ Her hand dropped to her boot and something flashed silver as her attacker dragged her into him_._ The man froze_._ Her cheeks_,_ stained pink from a mixture of anger and exertion_,_ and lips_,_ a slightly paler shade_,_ shifted as she hissed_, "_I said _'_no_.'"

_Draco was shocked into stillness by the sight_.

In hindsight he realized that that was the moment his opinion of her had changed.

_She shoved the man away_,_ snarling another message that Draco didn_'_t catch_._ She turned_,_ obviously intending to go elsewhere_,_ not spotting Draco_,_ locked in place only a few paces away_._ Nor did she see the sword her attacker was ineptly pulling on_,_ trying to loose it from its scabbard_._ By the time the drunken idiot got it free_,_ Draco was already moving to intercept_.

He'd done it without thinking or pausing to consider the consequences. It had scared him afterwards, when he'd stopped to think – not because he thought the man was particularly dangerous, but simply because he _hadn't_ thought. It'd been a shockingly impulsive thing to do. Something a _Gryffindor_ would do.

_The man didn_'_t put up a fight once he felt the metal of Draco_'_s sword against his throat_,_ though he did argue_.

"_I believe the lady said no_,"_ Draco said coolly_.

"_We was jus_''_avin_'_ a bit o_'_ fun_,"_ the man said_. "_I don_'_ see what diff'rence it makes teh yeh_."

_Draco, remembering how Granger had thrown herself into his arms earlier on the dock, body pressed closely against his, lips centimeters from his skin as she hissed in his ear _–

That was a memory he forced himself not to linger on, then or now.

– _he_ _pulled her into his body_, _one armed_. "_The difference_," _he sneered_, "_is you were havin_'_ it with __**my**__ girl_."_ He didn_'_t dare look to see her reaction to this announcement_,_ but it did get the desired effect_._ The ugly man_ _hastily left, and Draco just as hastily released his hold on the girl he_'_d just idiotically claimed as his_.

He still felt lucky that she hadn't taken offense to that comment. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of third year.

"_I could_'_ve handled that_ –" _she started defensively_,_ a small frown gracing her features_.

_Like he was going to argue_?_ At least she wasn't commenting on the _'_his girl_' _thing_. "_You handled him admirably_, _Granger_, _but it hardly seemed fair once he pulled his sword_," _he said, somewhat stiffly_._ The dagger remained in her hand_,_ though he wasn_'_t sure she was aware of it_.

_Her frown deepened. _"_You were there the whole time_?"

"_For most of it_, _yes_…" _he said_,_ wondering how she_'_d react to that admission_."_I found it quite apparent that you didn_'_t need my assistance_,_ up until that last point_," _he added quickly_.

He had thought that she would be annoyed by that, having to fend off the lout on her own when he could have stepped in at any time. Not that he really cared either way – it had just been a passing thought. Then she'd done the strangest thing….

"_Oh_. _Well_…_ thank you_."

"Oi, Malfoy," the gangly boy said in greeting, dropping onto the bench beside him.

Draco's head jerked up from the book he hadn't been reading, startled out of his memories. He raised an eyebrow at the boy's cheeky grin. "Nott."

A corner of his mind noted that the rain had lightened into a fine mist. Light shined through it, making it shimmer oddly, not quite a rainbow.

"Heard you got into an accident," Nott said. "With _Granger_."

"Your point being?" he asked, feigning boredom and returning his gaze to the book open in his lap.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Nott shrug. "No point. I was just curious to see if any of the rumors were true."

"That would depend upon the content of said rumors, which I have yet to hear," Draco commented lazily.

Nott waved a nonchalant hand. "They range anywhere from having one of you kill the other – with the survivor being sent to Azkaban – to the two of you eloping somewhere." Nott grinned again as Draco choked on a bit of incredulous laughter. "The common theory is that you hexed each other silly and were confined to the Hospital Wing."

"What dunderhead came up with the elopement theory?" he asked, shaking his head in bemusement.

Nott smirked, "Who else? Pansy."

"She never gives up," he chuckled dryly.

"If she did, she wouldn't be Pansy."

Which was true enough. Ever since Pansy had found 'her man' – which happened to be Nott himself – she'd been playing matchmaker nonstop for Draco, so that 'he could be as happy as she was' or some such rubbish. Usually it was more a cause for laughter than annoyance.

_Usually_ being the key word.

"So, seriously mate, what happened?" Nott probed.

"The common theory wouldn't be the common theory if it weren't the most likely," Draco replied.

"Cryptic as ever," Nott said with a long-suffering sigh. "I'll assume that's the rumor you want to support, though."

"I don't _support_ any of it. People will believe what they wish to believe," Draco said, meeting the light-brown gaze of his most inquisitive friend.

Nott scowled and stood. "You are entirely too frustrating for your own good. Don't come crying to me when the Captain has you keelhauled," he said, stalking off.

Draco's eyes widened, staring after Nott in stunned bewilderment. _Keelhauled_?_ Captain_? _What the bloody hell_!?

A shriek from a seagull caught his attention, pulling it towards the lake. A gust of wind pushed the stench of seaweed and dead fish into his face, making his eyes water. He blinked and looked again, feeling his jaw go loose.

He hastily stood up, stuffing the book into his bag and started into the castle, seeking the only one who might have a clue what was going on.

* * *

He found her, as he had expected, in the Library. But he hesitated, just out of her sight.

On the walk through the castle (and an odd walk it had been!) a thought had occurred to him. _What if I'm imagining all of it_?

After all, no one else seemed to notice the changes. People on the lawn had been chatting and studying and playing just as they always did, taking no notice of the birds or other oddities in their midst.

So he decided to act normal until she confirmed, one way or the other, if he'd gone insane.

Though if he were insane, would he even realize it…?

Shaking his head at himself, he opened his mouth to say something, but stopped before uttering a sound. What should he say?

They hadn't spoken since they'd left the Hospital Wing, the day before, and he wasn't really sure how to act around her now.

He had called her a friend, but it seemed rather premature for the label.

That night, on the deck of the ship, he'd shared more than he'd intended to. Under the stars, it had almost seemed as if they were the last people in the world, and the words that had been troubling his existence for far too long just came spilling out.

He blamed the Daydream Charm – trying to push romance into the story where it didn't belong.

_Romance_? The word made his stomach back flip unpleasantly, and he returned his gaze to the girl in question.

She'd just looked up from her books to the window, a smile stretched across her face. She stood and stretched lithely, moving to open the window.

Fireflies erupted in his already discombobulated stomach at the sight. She wasn't beautiful by any means, but there _was_ something oddly alluring in the way she moved and held herself. And her smile was –

He stopped that line of thought before it went any further. What the hell was he _thinking_? He wasn't some romantic idiot that spouted out poetry at the least provocation. Or any provocation at all.

Draco Malfoy, a poet? Not bloody likely.

And he _certainly_ wasn't falling for the girl or anything.

Before he did anything else that he'd have to obliviate himself for later, such as comparing her hair to the brown of baked goods, or her eyes to liquid pools of coffee, he spoke.

"Granger."

* * *

**A/N:** So there's the "long awaited" second chapter. I'm sorry if it sucks (I honestly can't tell if it does or not.)

It's still not very funny yet, is it? I'm thinking the humor will really start in chapter 4 or 5, though I don't have my plot as solidly worked out as I did in the last one (which is part of why this is taking longer)

Anyway, as ever, I appreciate any and all input you guys can give me - it really does help me write better/faster. Even if I don't personally reply to your review, I read and appreciate it.

-Warning: Insane Ramblings of a Tired Fanfiction Author Ahead. Enter at Own Risk.-

And if that's not enough of a reason for you to leave a review... then really you're a horrible person who shall die at the paws of Squeaky, my kitty-cat. She shall lick you to death with her sandpaper tongue, at my command! Bwhahaha.

-cough- I'm really not insane... _or am I??_

The World May Never Know.


	3. Walks, Weirdness, and some other W words

**Disclaimer:** Oh look! A flying pig! No, sorry that was just a Hippogriff, I still don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

Chapter 3 (_Walks, Weirdness, and some other W words_)

* * *

Raindrops still clinging to the library's windows glittered as the sun appeared from behind the clouds, catching Hermione's eye. The rain had stopped, finally.

Smiling, she stood up from her chair, stretching her back and legs before walking over to push open the window.

A breeze drifted in through the window, bringing the smell of salt and seaweed with it.

Her smile faltered. _It's still there_.

The phantom smell of the sea had been haunting her since she'd woken up, and it was starting to worry her.

"Granger."

She nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning to find Draco watching her.

"Malfoy," she returned, feeling somewhat dubious. For a fleeting second, she wondered if he was going to start insulting her, as he'd done with such regularity in the past. It had been easy to forget their differences in the… unique environment of the daydream, but now….

"At least you're dry now," she commented offhandedly.

Ignoring her implied question, he strolled to her work table and glanced curiously at the various papers she had strewn over the table.

Frowning and feeling defensive, she hurried across the intervening space and began to hastily collect her things.

She felt him slide up beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers as he plucked a paper from her hand. "Planning a sequel?" he asked wryly.

"Of course not," she snapped, attempting to snatch the paper back. "It's just homework, honestly."

He grinned, keeping the paper out of her reach. "Oh, of course. If it's just homework, then, here…" he started to hand it to her.

"Thank you," she said suspiciously, reaching out to take it back.

At the last minute he pulled it back, and she bit back a groan. "Only, I wasn't aware that we had an essay due in Charms about–" he frowned thoughtfully at the parchment– "_imagination enhancement_ _spells_. I should probably get started on my own, if that's the case."

She huffed impatiently, but felt embarrassed heat rising in her cheeks at being caught in a lie. "Fine, you're right, it isn't homework. I was just looking over some notes on the changes I'd made to the charm because I wanted to know why the charm took both of us to the same dream, since the original charm is made for a single person. Plus, I wanted to see if any of the charms I used had side-effects," she muttered the last bit to herself. "Just give it back already," she requested sternly, cutting her rambling short.

His gaze sharpened with sudden interest, though she wasn't sure what it was directed towards. He held out the paper for her to take, and she reached out for it, wary of tricks. She grabbed it, but looked at him quizzically when he didn't let go. "Take a walk with me," he asked.

She paused, frowning at his odd behavior. "A walk," she repeated incredulously as he released the parchment. She put it with the other documents in her bag before turning her disbelieving gaze back onto him. "After that fuss you made about keeping this… _civility…_ thing… between us, you want to take _a walk_. Where people could see us?"

He waved a dismissive hand, frowning slightly. "It's not far and everyone's outside anyway. C'mon."

Her protests died in her throat when his hand made contact with hers, a small, pleasant jolt running through her body and making her stomach flutter. He tugged on it gently, and she quickly grabbed her book bag before letting him pull her out.

She found her voice again once they were out of the library. "So, where exactly are you taking me?" she questioned, one part annoyance, three parts curiosity.

"You'll see when we get there," he said, adding a muttered, "hopefully," under his breath.

She looked at him sideways, wondering what he was talking about. "Knut for your thoughts?"

He shrugged casually. "Have you noticed anything… strange, lately?" he asked, sounding oddly hesitant.

"Well... you mean besides that near-monsoon we just had?" she snorted.

"You found that odd too? No one else seemed to," he commented with a shrug, using a tone of voice Hermione didn't recognize. But, she thought she detected a hint of relief in it.

"That no one else found it strange is strange in itself," she mused. "I mean, we should be getting snow at this time of year, not rain."

He nodded agreement. "Yeah, but anything besides that?"

"Well, yes, maybe. It's – I keep getting whiffs of salt, like from the ocean, you know?" She shook her head. "It sounds silly."

"It does sound silly," he agreed.

She pulled her hand out of his and halted them both, feeling annoyed. "I shouldn't've told you. I'm sure it's nothing, my senses just aren't used to not having the smell around now that I'm back in reality. Really, it's absolutely nothing to get worked up about," she stated firmly, not sure who she was trying to convince. "And I am going back to the library, thank you for the walk."

He put his hands behind his back and raised an eyebrow. "One thing before you go, Hermione?"

She paused at the use of her given name and looked at him expectantly.

He nodded towards the nearest portraits on the wall, rocking back onto the balls of his feet. "Look."

Confused, she did as he asked. Her mouth fell open.

She knew this hallway well, considering it was on her customary route to the Library. She'd memorized each of the portraits – what they depicted, how many there were, what order they were in. Most were of famous wizards, each having invented or done something extraordinary. The rest were scenes from the Goblin Wars, usually something chaotic and bloody.

Not anymore. The nearest painting was of a ship being tossed on monster waves, constantly moving up and down, somewhat nauseating just to watch. Others seemed to be of sea captains, nearly all with beards, large hats, eye patches, or different combinations of the aforementioned articles. There were a few of sea battles, ships blowing each other apart and crews fighting with swords.

Draco reached over and gently closed her mouth with a single finger on her chin.

She smacked him on the arm with a grimace. "You could've mentioned that a _bit_ sooner, you prat!"

"It's not nice to hit people, Granger," he complained, feigning injury.

"That's why I don't hit nice people," she retorted, not caring if it didn't really make sense.

"Are you saying that I'm not nice?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She blinked at him innocently. "What gave you that impression?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you. C'mon, there's something else you should see," he said, abruptly continuing his walk down the corridor.

She frowned, looking after him and wondering what was on his mind. True, the recent events were a bit worrisome, but to her it was just another mystery to solve. Draco, on the other hand, seemed troubled. Not to mention the fact that she still didn't know why he'd been soaked earlier – assuming, of course, that there was a reason that wasn't innocent… he had avoided the question, after all...

Shaking her head to try and clear it, she quickly jogged a few steps to catch up with him.

They stopped in front of a large window with a picturesque view of the lake.

She glanced at Draco questioningly before following his gaze out the window. The derailment of her previous train of thought about Draco went unnoticed in the face of what she saw there.

She gaped at the view. "I'm guessing that that's not Durmstrang," she said after a moment.

"No," he confirmed.

They stood at the window together, staring out at the ghostly ship docked in the lake. It was the _Phoenix_, blood-red sails and all. Or it would be, if the _Phoenix_ were see-through. There was no sign of anyone moving onboard.

Students on the lawn nearby talked and laughed as if nothing was wrong, either not noticing the ghost vessel or thinking it nothing special. Some students were even playing with (_as in torturing,_ Hermione thought with a frown) a flock of seagulls that seemed to have taken up residence on the lawn.

"What the hell is going on?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Draco grimaced.

* * *

Hermione's mind whirled with the possibilities as she sank into one of the leather armchairs strewn throughout the library.

"It has to have something to do with the daydream charm," she said, thinking out loud as Draco settled into a similar armchair next to hers. "We seem to be the only ones who're affected, so it must be some kind of side-effect…"

"I don't think we're hallucinating, if that's what you're trying to suggest. People don't usually share hallucinations, and besides, it'd be pretty hard for those kids to chase seagulls that are solely in _our_ minds," Draco said, frowning thoughtfully.

"Well, this is hardly a _usual_ case," Hermione protested. "And, for all you know, we were imagining the kids as much as the seagulls. But you're right, it does seem far-fetched." Her eyes widened and she felt like smacking herself on the forehead. "We haven't really woken up yet, that must be it!"

"I'm reasonably certain that we've woken up, Granger," Draco snorted, shaking his head.

"How do you know?" she asked quickly.

He frowned in mock thoughtfulness, "Hmm, let's see…. I'm still wearing the clothes I put on this morning, my feet touch the ground, I don't have any amazing physical powers –" he smirked slightly– "beyond the norm, at least. Surely you noticed that wasn't always the case when we were in La-la Land? But as I was _about_ to say," he continued before she could say anything else, "I have another theory. When that _brilliant_–" just the slightest sarcastic edge to the word– "little globe of yours broke, it formed some kind of magic gas that has driven everyone else loony. We weren't affected because we got hit directly and went through it properly."

"That doesn't explain where the boat came from, or why the portraits have changed," Hermione said, biting her lip in thought. "But if it is somehow affecting other people, we should go see Dumbledore. Maybe he can help us figure out what's going on."

"We?"

She looked at him sharply. "You are intending to help me figure this out, aren't you?"

He glanced at the window to their left as a seagull shrieked out on the grounds, then turned back to her with a noncommittal sound. "Would my assistance be necessary?"

She paused for a few seconds, thinking about his question rather than her answer to it. Draco Malfoy was unlike anyone she'd ever known before. If Harry or Ron had asked that question – not that they would have phrased it that way – it would have amounted to 'Do I have to?' But then again, in this situation the boys wouldn't ask something like that at all. They would already be caught up in the mystery, and, most likely, disregarding most of her input.

From Draco, however, it was more like a subtle way of saying 'I respect your ability to figure it out on your own, but I'll help if you want me to.'

Or she could just be reading too much into it.

"Your assistance would be appreciated, yes."

"Good, since I was going to help anyway," he grinned.

She snorted, but found herself grinning back. "You are a strange person, Draco Malfoy," she told him with a shake of her head.

He blinked at her innocently. "Let me tell you a secret…" he began, leaning forward in his chair. She found herself leaning forward as well, caught by his conspiratorial air. His breath tickled against her ear, causing a shiver to run down her back, as he whispered, "It's the normal ones you have to watch out for."

She laughed and he pulled back in mock indignation. "I was being serious, you know!"

She let her laughter die down to a grin. "No, I know, you're right. I was just thinking about Harry's aunt and uncle… they're about as _normal_ as you can get. They're actually quite scary."

As the silence stretched between them, she abruptly realized what she'd said and to whom. She opened her mouth to apologize, but paused, realizing she didn't know what she'd be apologizing for. She'd said nothing wrong. And yet, their relationship was still new and tenuous. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate him.

"Look…" she started, but was cut off as the bell signaling the end of a class rang.

Draco cleared his throat. "Free period's over, then. I've got to get to Defense. I'll meet you afterwards so we can go see Dumbledore, right?" He didn't sound enthusiastic.

"Right, okay," she said, nodding half-heartedly. She'd had no idea what to say to him anyway.

She watched him go regretfully.

Being friends with Draco Malfoy was going to be harder than she had thought.

* * *

**A/N:** This one took forever, I'm sorry. I wrote this, edited it, re-edited, rewrote, edited, re-edited, rewrote, and then re-edited a final time, and I still don't like parts of it! gah. I hope that it reads alright.

Another reason it took so long? Other projects calling my name (and by that, I actually mean 'bashing me over the head with clubs and dragging me off to become their typing-slave.')

Anyway and as always, thank you for all your reviews. I'd love to personally reply to all (well, most...) of you, but I always get side-tracked with other things (such as actually writing the next chapter, you know..) and forget. But I do appreciate anything and everything you have to say, even if it's not positive (flames will be used to make s'mores for my more constructive reviews, not that I've gotten any yet)

That said, free virtual s'mores to all who review!


	4. The Spreading Strangeness

**Disclaimer:** Must I? Really? Do people _still_ think I own Harry Potter? I'm flattered, really, but... no. Just, no.

* * *

Chapter 4 (_The Spreading Strangeness_)

* * *

Hermione sighed heavily, waiting impatiently for Transfiguration to end. Of course, it was highly unusual for Hermione Granger to be impatient for a class to end – especially such an important one on 'facial transfigurations' – and her sigh earned her a quizzical look from Harry, seated next to her.

Ignoring his look, she tried to focus on the lesson, taking an extremely detailed note about the correct wand movement – after all, she didn't want to end up with two noses in the place of eyes.

But her mind soon drifted back to the mystery. None of the theories she and Draco had come up with seemed to quite match the situation. None of the spells she'd used were known to have side effects… though, none were known to be able to affect more than one person at once, either.

Now that she thought about it, that was probably just from the combination of the imagination enhancer and the magic enrichment spell she'd used… which could also explain why she and Draco were sharing hallucinations now, except for the fact that _augeo magus substantia_ only lasted 77 hours, at the most.

She frowned, wishing she'd remembered that earlier.

That they were still 'asleep' didn't seem likely either, for the same reason. (Also, Draco was right; she no longer had the 'special powers' of the dream world.)

So that left the magical gas… which didn't fit either, not completely. How could a gas affect inanimate objects? It shouldn't be able to change the portraits or conjure that galleon sitting in the lake. Unless the students under the effect of the spell somehow conjured them, but there was still the problem of most of her spells having a set duration – which had long since expired.

There must be something they were missing.

She nearly fell out of her seat in surprise when the bell finally rang. Looking mournfully down at her rather sparse notes, she packed them away in her shoulder bag before turning to Harry and Ron. "You two go on ahead, I need to speak to Professor McGonagall for a minute, alright?"

"Sure," Harry agreed.

"'Bout what?" Ron asked curiously.

"Oh… umm, just a project I'm working on… you know, for extra credit," she said, not wanting them to worry.

Harry chuckled and Ron rolled his eyes. "She's already getting top marks, what does she need extra credit for?" Ron muttered as he and Harry left.

Pulling her bag over her shoulder, she approached the teacher's desk, where the professor was gathering her lecture notes. The woman looked up when Hermione stopped in front of her desk.

"Yes, Miss Grant, what cannae do fer ye?" It took Hermione a minute to decipher Professor McGonagall's words; it seemed as though her Scottish accent was uncommonly thick today.

_Grant_? _What the…_. Deciding she'd heard wrong, she launched into her prepared speech. "Professor, I was hoping that I could get permission from you to visit Professor Dumbledore's office. I would like to speak to him about a project I'm working on, about the effects of Daydream Charms."

Professor McGonagall frowned. "Ye shouldnae bother the commodore wi' such matters."

Hermione's blood ran cold as she realized that McGonagall had been affected by the 'Strangeness' as well. It honestly hadn't occurred to her that the esteemed Professors of Hogwarts could fall victim as easily as anyone else. Nor had she expected her favorite teacher to turn her down.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm, "It's really important that I speak with him, Professor."

She _really_ hoped that the Headmaster had some kind of defense against whatever was going on.

"The commodore's a verra busy man," McGonagall said curtly, eyes narrowing.

"But I must see him!" she exclaimed, frustrated and impatient. "I've information that he needs to know straight away!"

"In the name of the wee man, haud yer wheest! If ye continue as ye are, ye'll get yer heid in yer hauns an' yer lugs ti pley wi'! I tol' ye _no_, lassie. Good dae!"

Hermione blinked as her Professor swept from the room, still trying to figure out what the older woman had just said.

* * *

Draco stared at it.

He closed his eyes and silently counted to three before returning his gaze to the… _thing_… that stood across the hall from him.

It stared back with a scowl.

Hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, but he still couldn't tear his eyes away.

It wasn't supposed to be there, though he honestly couldn't say why he was surprised. The whole bloody school was going mad, after all.

The footsteps came to a halt nearby. "Hi," Granger said, sounding breathless. "Sorry I didn't get here sooner, we didn't actually set up a meeting place, so I wasn't sure – why is a merman statue guarding Dumbledore's office?" she asked, abruptly changing mental gears.

All curiosity, she took a step towards it.

He grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back harshly as the merman brandished his spear, coming within three inches of skewering her with it.

"It's not friendly," he said dryly, watching her rub her shoulder and scowl at the statue. She rolled her shoulder, grimacing, and he frowned. He hadn't meant to hurt her. "You alright?"

She seemed startled for a moment before nodding. "Better than if I had a spear stuck in me," she said, lips twitching upward. "Thanks for that."

There she went, thanking him again. It wasn't that he hadn't received expressions of gratitude before… it was just strange, coming from her. He couldn't decide if he liked it or not.

She was watching him with a quizzical look, so he opened his mouth to say the first response that came to mind.

"Well, if I hadn't, they most likely would have blamed your untimely demise on me, and we can't have that, now, can we?"

She blinked twice with deliberate slowness, then said flatly, "No, I suppose not."

He watched as she turned her gaze back to the statue, abruptly realizing how close they were when a few strands of her fly-away hair brushed against his face.

He could smell her shampoo. It wasn't something sickeningly sweet, like most girls seemed to use, but instead it smelled somewhat… piney. It was a very clean smell, anyway, and he liked it.

"…Password, only she wouldn't give it to me. She was acting rather strangely… I think whatever is going on is affecting her, too. I just hope Professor Dumbledore can help us."

_Who?_ He wondered, but he didn't want to admit he hadn't been listening. Instead he put on his best smirk and said, "Well, then, let's find out."

She frowned. "I just told you that I couldn't get the password… so unless you somehow know it…" she trailed off, and he sensed impatience in her tone.

Had she really expected him to come unprepared? What did she take him for, a dunderhead like Potty or Weasel? "I, at least, have a genuinely helpful Head of House." Ignoring her frown, he turned to the statue and said, "Saltwater taffy."

The merman shifted the spear to its shoulder, looking Draco up and down almost… suggestively? _No, that's just… ew._ Then it winked at him and slipped to the side, revealing the moving staircase behind it.

Granger, of course, had the nerve to laugh at him. He imagined that the look on his face was rather humorous. From the outside.

Pulling his dignity around him like a cloak, he stepped onto the staircase, shooting his coldest glare at the still-leering statue. If the world had any justice at all, the statue would frost over and crumble into dust at his feet.

Unsurprisingly, the statue remained unfazed.

Granger continued to snicker behind him.

"Oh, shut up," he grumbled.

She clapped a hand on his shoulder as the staircase continued to grind its way upwards, "Think of it this way, Malfoy," she said, still snickering, "you've been proven right! No one can resist your charms, as you've been telling everyone for years."

Well, to be honest it wasn't him who'd been saying that – mostly it was Pansy – but he decided not to correct her. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "No one?"

Her eyes widened slightly and her snickering stopped. Her hand fell away as she stammered, "Er, well, I mean, I – that is to say– Oh, look, we're here," she said quickly, as the staircase thudded to a halt.

She used the griffin-shaped knocker that was mounted on the glossy oak door before he could stop her – not that he was going to. Once the echoes of her sharp raps died away, there was silence.

He couldn't help but wonder what she would have said.

He glanced over at her again, noting a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

The door opened.

"Come in, come in!" called a jovial voice.

Draco had only been in the Headmaster's office once before, but he knew it well enough not to gawk at anything. However, what he saw nearly made him stop in his tracks.

It was _worse_ here. All of the portraits on the walls were of scowling sea captains rather than the sleeping headmasters of the past. Behind the large, claw-footed desk (which looked the same as it always did,) a beat-up old captain's hat sat on a shelf. Beside it, sitting in a glass case, was a silver rapier with a ruby-encrusted handle.

On another wall was a bookcase, filled with books and loose papers, looking very disorderly. There were several almanacs and… _are those __**romance novels?**_

Draco shook his head and looked in the opposite direction, only to lock gazes with a huge, mounted _fish_, hanging over the unlit fireplace.

Lips curling in disgust, he glanced up towards the second level, where he saw a few paintings of seascapes, and a large ship's wheel on the walls.

A quiet gasp brought his attention back to the girl beside him. She was looking over her shoulder at something, so with raised eyebrows, he turned to look, too.

Fawkes sat where he always did, on the golden perch beside the door. The bird was dozing, looking to be close to the end of his cycle. At first, Draco couldn't tell what had caught Granger's attention, then he saw it. The phoenix's form shimmered slightly, and for a moment – barely a fraction of a second – he looked like a Macaw. It was a ghostly image, overlaid over the true phoenix form, and faded out again before he was even sure he'd really seen it. Fawkes himself didn't seem to notice anything, as he continued snoring lightly on his perch.

Granger glanced at him with wide eyes, and he shrugged before turning his attention to the old man seated behind the large desk. Dumbledore scratched something onto a sheet of paper, underlined it once, then flicked it to the other side of the desk before looking up at them, bright-blue eyes twinkling and snow-white eyebrows creeping an inch up his forehead.

"Twinkle me toes and shiver me timbers, this _is_ a surprise! To what do I owe a visit from my two brightest midshipmen?"

_Well, this is obviously a lost cause_. Before he could think of anything to get them back out the door, the Gryffindor beside him plunged in, as was her wont.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir, there's something strange going on in the school, and we were hoping you could help us," Granger said quickly.

"Indeed? Say on, Miss Grant," Dumbledore said with a frown.

"That's just it, sir! My name is Hermione Granger, not Grant. Headmaster, we think it has something to do with that charm that we – well, I – altered. I don't know, maybe it's reacted with something in the atmosphere of Hogwarts, but it's causing changes, sir!"

Dumbledore's frown was replaced with a patronizing smile. "Really? And what kind of changes are occurring, Miss Grant – excuse me, Miss Granger."

Draco noticed a flash of hope in the girl's eyes, and he winced internally. It was obvious that the old man was humoring her.

"Well I hardly know where to begin, but the air smells salty, for one thing. And the seabirds! And that ship down in the lake. Why is there a galleon in a _lake?_" He wondered at her odd use of the word 'galleon,' but she rambled on,"For another thing, the portraits! They've all changed into sea captains and seascapes. They used to be famous wizards and wizarding battles!"

Draco watched as Granger grew more frazzled as she listed the various oddities, realizing for the first time how nervous she was about the situation.

Dumbledore used the time it took for her to draw a breath to speak, "Miss Grant, are you feeling quite alright? I understand you were just recently in sickbay. Those tropical fevers can be persistent you know."

Granger gaped at the man for a moment before starting again, "Professor Dumbledore, please, even you have been affected by this. Listen to what I'm saying – this isn't right! Look around your office – there aren't supposed to be ship's wheels and fish on your walls –"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Miss Grant, I've heard enough. Mr. Malloy, please escort Miss Grant to sickbay. It seems as though the chirurgeons have released her a tad early." When Draco hesitated he added, "Unless you have something to add?"

Granger shot him a look that was plainly a request for support, but at this point he thought that continuing to try and convince Dumbledore would prove to be more of a hindrance than anything else.

"No, sir. I was just on my way to warn you of her condition when I caught up with her outside – the, uh, chirurgeons say she'll be alright in no time, though."

"Very good," Dumbledore said, waving a hand for them to leave and returning his attention to the papers on his desk.

Draco walked over to Granger and put a hand on her arm, which she jerked away with a scowl. "Come on," he hissed at her. He placed a hand at the small of her back and gave her a gentle push when she stood her ground, and she finally gave in, moving towards the door.

"Oh, Mr. Malloy?"

Draco spun to face the desk once more, "Yes, sir?"

"Stay with her until she's seen to, there's a good lad. I'd hate for something to happen to her. Understood?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling.

"Aye, aye, sir."

And then they were out the door.

_Thwap!_

"Ow," Draco complained, rubbing the spot on his arm that Granger had just hit.

"What the _hell_, Malfoy! You were supposed to back me up, not imply that I was crazy! We need his help, and now we can't get it!"

"Keep your voice _down_, Granger!" he hissed. "That door isn't sound-proof!"

"He already thinks I'm crazy, what difference will shouting in his stairwell make!" she exclaimed, though he was pleased to note her volume had decreased.

"Granger, for someone as smart as you are, it's shocking how little attention you pay to the details. He doesn't think you're crazy, he thinks you have a fever." She started to protest, but he quickly spoke over her, "And the reason that I backed down was so that we could _get out of there_. It was obvious he's been affected by this… this… Weirdness, too strongly to be of any help to us."

"Strangeness," she muttered, but before he could ask what she meant, she sighed. "What are we going to do, then? That makes Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore that have been affected, and who knows who else! I don't know who else we can go to for help!"

Draco rolled his eyes and started to reply when he was interrupted by a strange sound, coming from within Dumbledore's office –

"_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me,_

"_We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot,_

"_Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!"_

Shooting a quizzical look at Granger, Draco opened the door a crack and peered in.

Dumbledore stood before his fireplace moving his hands like an orchestra conductor, but he wasn't the source of the song (which was still being sung.) Instead it seemed to be coming from… the fish.

_That's just wrong._

Closing the door silently, he shook his head and started walking down the staircase. After a moment he heard Granger's hurried footsteps descending behind him until she was next to him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

He sneered internally, but answered her question. "To speak to the one person that a Gryffindor would never think to ask help from."

* * *

_**A/N:**_ -peeks out from behind a wall, then ducks back down when a tomato flies through the air- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to leave you guys without an update for so long! I can't even say I was really busy, I just got doing other things that shouldn't've taken precedence, but did...

I can't even promise Chapter 5 will be up soon, though I am working on it right now-ish.

This chapter hasn't even been 'approved' by my editor yet. I haven't heard from her in a few days, and I didn't want to make you guys wait even longer... Hopefully there are no major flaws!

She did warn me during the first one though - "If you keep up this ridiculously fast update schedule, your readers will be upset when/if you slow down."

Not that I've gotten any "omg hurry up girl!!" emails, but still. I sense it.

As always, thank you for your reviews, I really appreciate them. Have I mentioned that I feel bad not responding individually to all of you? I do. Sometimes it's because I lose track of who I've responded to, sometimes it's just that I'm doing other things, but either way, don't think that I don't enjoy reading them!

Okay, ending this perilously long author's note here.

-Lild

P.S. I just remembered I meant to say something about McGonagall's scottish accent! I'm sorry if it sucks. There, I've said it.

(Also, I got the sayings from www . squidoo . com / scottishwords. "Ye'll get yir heid in yir hauns an yir lugs ti pley wi." Means, "you'll get in big trouble. Literally, you'll get your head in your hands and your ears to play with!" according to that website.)


	5. Anxieties and Attractions

**Disclaimer**: Guys! Guys! You'll never guess! J.K.R. just signed the paperwork, Harry Potter is officially mine!!

_-A beaming Severus Snape pirouettes into the room wearing a lime green leotard, neon pink hair done up in pigtails_- "Congratulation, Mistress!"

-**_The Author wakes up with a jolt, mentally cursing her snacking habits and the dreams they cause._**-

Note: No Snapes were harmed in the making of this Disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter 5 (_Anxieties and Attractions_)

* * *

Hermione fiddled with the strap of her book-bag for what seemed like the hundredth time as her feet continued to propel her down the corridor, nervous energy making it easy to keep up with the long-legged boy in front of her. Her eyes darted along the walls, seeing the changes that the portraits had undergone, but not taking them in.

Her mind felt like a beehive, thoughts buzzing around at random within her skull, so quickly that she could barely keep track of them all.

The Headmaster… she couldn't believe that he had been infected – was it even an 'infection'? Could this be spread to the outside world? Or was it already there?

She swatted that thought away quickly. It _had_ to be an isolated event. Her charm couldn't have been powerful enough to affect the whole world.

_It shouldn't've been powerful enough to affect Hogwarts, even._

God, but what else could it have been? The sea-faring theme was too much of a coincidence to not have come from the Daydream Charm.

She bit down a groan. She was such an idiot.

She should have known better than to tamper with a Charm she knew little about.

_But who could've predicted this?_

It was still her fault. If anyone got hurt because of this….

She drew in a deep, silent breath.

She just wouldn't let that happen.

_Oh Merlin._

What if someone found out? What if Voldemort…. He could attack the castle, and…. Would they think he was Snakeface? What if Harry thought he was his father?

Her breath grew shallow and she nearly grabbed onto the back of Draco's robes to get him to stop walking. They couldn't tell anyone! If word got out….

_Professor Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape._

With extreme effort, she slowed her breathing back to a normal rhythm. Her hands went to the strap of her bag once more.

They needed help. Help that Professor Snape could, hopefully, provide.

But what was to say that he hadn't been affected, as well? The Headmaster had, and so had Professor McGonagall – quite severely, it seemed. That brought up another question – why had those two started being Strange more quickly than anyone else?

All of these unanswered questions were giving her a headache.

In an effort to distract herself, she refocused her eyes, actually starting to take in her surroundings.

The first thing she noticed was that not all of the portraits had changed, or otherwise hadn't changed completely.

Her steps slowed as a painting of two wizards dueling – with swords rather than magic – caught her eye. Fencing had always fascinated her – which was undoubtedly part of the reason her daydream manifested as it had – and she watched, enthralled, as the two men thrust and parried, slashed and side-stepped. With all the footwork involved, it really did look like a dance of some sort.

She'd wanted to learn how from the time she was 8 and had watched _The Mark of Zorro_ with her parents. Somehow, though, other things always seemed to push their way to the front of her 'to do' list, and she never got around to it.

After a moment, she realized that she'd stopped walking altogether, and she quickly caught up to Draco before she lost him completely – which would have been bad, considering she had no idea where they were, what with all of her usual landmarks being unrecognizable.

Unfortunately, the automaticity of her movement once again unleashed the horde of thoughts swarming in her brain – and she really needed a different metaphor. 'Bees in her skull' wasn't the pleasantest of images.

Rather than go back to her previous line of thought – the one about the problem at hand – her mind decided to wander down a completely different path… one that she'd been trying to avoid for the past ten minutes.

Draco Malfoy.

More specifically, her relationship with the aforementioned prat.

It was complicated, to say the least – their exchanges from just today showed that much.

She frowned. They certainly knew how to push each other's buttons – unsurprising, after five years of being enemies.

Actually, put like that, it was shocking they were able to be civil at all, let alone _joke _with each other as they'd done in the library or the stairwell…. Though, they had slipped easily from playfulness to awkwardness.

She blew a wayward strand of hair away from her face irritably, barely noticing as they started to descend the main staircase of Hogwarts. She knew it by heart now, so she wasn't concerned about misstepping.

Their whole relationship was just so _confusing!_

Her thoughts stumbled as she remembered her embarrassing case of knotted-tongue in the stairwell to the Headmaster's office. She didn't even know why she had reacted like that. She should have just laughed and said, 'Except me, of course,' and been done with it. Or a more sarcastic, 'Oh, yes, I've fallen madly in love with you. Take me. I'm yours.'

But no. Her mind had gone completely blank.

It had actually been a unique experience, having no thoughts scampering through her brain like mice – some more noisily than others, but always _there_ – and she couldn't say that she'd enjoyed it.

What was it about his question that had unnerved her so?

It was simply ridiculous to think that she'd started to develop feelings for him in that way.

Completely absurd!

True, he was… attractive… especially when he wasn't wearing those horrible, ungainly, black robes that were mandated by the school. (That was the one thing she would never get used to, even if she lived in the Wizarding World for a hundred years. Muggle clothing was _so_ much better.)

But that didn't change the fact that he was _Draco Malfoy_, the boy who had taunted her and her friends for over five years, starting right from the day they met!

He was pompous, egotistical, annoying beyond all reason, and, up until recently, a cruel bigot.

Her frown deepened, and she returned her gaze to the back of Draco's head.

Had he really even changed? Why _had_ he started treating her with respect all of a sudden? Who was to say that his new attitude wasn't some kind of trick to get him into a position to humiliate her later? Or worse, what if he was trying to get to Harry through her?

But the circumstances were too coincidental. There was no way he could've planned having them both sent into a fantasy world of her crazy mind's creation.

She laughed silently at her own paranoia. Moody's ranting about 'constant vigilance' was starting to get to her.

But she obviously didn't trust him, if such thoughts still occurred to her. _Should_ she trust him, even?

_No!_ shouted one part of her mind – a part that sounded surprisingly like Harry and Ron – but the more dominant part of her mind was less resolute.

The problem was, she didn't know anything about him. The small amount of openness he'd shown her on the _Silver Doe_ had shattered the image of him that she held in her mind – the evil, arrogant, smarmy, incompetent, chauvinistic boy she knew so well – and replaced it with… nothing. She had _no idea_ who Draco Malfoy was anymore.

She was very curious by nature, and to _not know_ something, and to know that she didn't know it, was like an itch that was just out of reach. She had to find a way to scratch it, or she'd go mad.

* * *

Draco glanced at his watch, trying to decide where best to search for his godfather. The watch informed him, in bold silver letters, that it was almost dinnertime, but that didn't really help. Severus Snape didn't have the healthiest of habits – he was just as likely to work through dinner as he was to take it in the Great Hall, or even his own quarters.

Luckily, this watch had actually been a gift from his godfather, so it had an extra feature. Flipping a small catch on the side, he watched as several dots appeared around the circumference of the watch, labeled things like 'Home,' 'Work,' and 'Traveling,' among other things. Three different hands aligned themselves to the appropriate dots.

His mother was at home – no surprise there. His father was working… his godfather had told him as much earlier.

Draco barely contained an eye-roll when he saw what dot the 'godfather' hand was resting on. 'Find at own peril,' indeed.

That most likely meant he was in his private laboratory though.

It took about fifteen minutes to get to the main staircase, and another five to descend to the proper floor.

_This castle is too bloody large_, Draco thought irritably as he turned towards the corridor that housed most of the Professors' private rooms. (Some chose lodgings close to their respective classrooms, but most chose the more luxurious accommodations here, on the 6th floor.)

The sound of footsteps continuing to descend the marble staircase behind him brought his gaze around to see Granger, apparently lost in thought and unaware that she was heading in the wrong direction.

She'd been so quiet, he'd almost forgotten that she was trailing after him.

"Granger," he drawled, barely containing a smile as the girl jumped in surprise and spun around. "Unless you have another destination in mind, we're going _this_ way."

"Oh," she said, frowning slightly in confusion. "I thought…" she trailed off, glancing down the stairwell.

"You thought all Slytherins lived in the dungeons by choice, only to come out of the depths for meals and classes?" he finished for her sardonically. His lips twitched when he saw the pink tinge on her cheeks.

"No! Of course not, that's just… stupid," she mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

Glancing at her from the corner of his eye as they walked down the corridor – she was now beside him, rather than trailing behind him – he noted that she looked rather cute when she blushed.

Shaking his head slightly, he started watching the portraits, trying to keep track of where he was. He didn't often visit his godfather's private residence, though he was confidant he could find it again, strange portraits or no.

He watched with amusement as the monks in a nearby portrait played a game of dice, swearing or cheering depending on the roll. His eyebrows twitched upwards as a few of the more creative cusses reached his ears. He glanced towards Granger, half hoping that she wasn't listening, but also wondering what her reaction would be.

Except she wasn't beside him any more. He stopped, turning to look back the way he'd come, frowning.

She wasn't hard to find, gaping up at a large portrait like a fish out of water. Seeing the content of the portrait, Draco started to laugh.

Granger's gaze shot to him, and she scowled. "It's not funny!"

"I beg to differ," he said, still smiling. "Didn't you know? Every time a Gryffindor is made a fool of, a Slytherin gets their smirk."

"Cute," she said, sarcastically. Though if he wasn't mistaken, she was fighting down a smile.

Godric Gryffindor was frowning at them, looking slightly confused. He wore an old-fashioned admiral's uniform, with golden epaulets on his shoulders and more ribbons and medals on his chest than Draco could easily count. He wore the same hat that had been in Dumbledore's office – admittedly in better condition – with a feather cockade attached to the front, over what appeared to be a powdered wig. The silver, ruby-encrusted rapier hung at his hip.

Deciding that he didn't want to get into a conversation with the famous wizard-turned-naval officer, he saluted the man – that's what one did in the navy, right? – and put a hand on Granger's elbow to get them moving again.

"I can walk on my own you know," she snapped after a few steps, pulling her arm out of his hold.

"Of course," he responded, discreetly putting a bit more distance between them – not because he wanted to, but precisely because he _didn't_ want to.

If there was one thing Draco Malfoy never did, it was lie to himself. Looking back on the past few days, he saw a reoccurring theme; him taking every possible excuse to get physically closer to the girl.

Watching the way she moved, the way her hair bounced or swished with every step, it was undeniable.

He was attracted to Hermione Granger.

And it had to stop.

"Malfoy?"

Abruptly he realized that they'd reached the portrait of Salazar Slytherin. At first, Draco thought that this portrait had escaped the curse, but then he noticed the changes. Instead of wizarding robes, the figure in the portrait wore Chinese-style armor with long flowing sleeves. The man was bald – that was nothing new – but rather than a flowing grey beard, he had a long, spindly black mustache. The man's pale gaze scrutinized them from over his steepled fingers, which ended in fingernails that were at _least_ four centimeters long.

Slytherin sneered at Granger before turning his gaze to Draco. Draco hesitated, not knowing how best to address this new image of the founder of his House.

"I tire of this. Speak quickly boy – what is your purpose here?"

_Gets straight to the point, doesn't he?_ Draco thought absently. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Granger open her mouth.

He really didn't think that letting her speak would be a good idea. "Captain Slytherin, we require an audience with Professor Snape, as soon as possible," he said, as confidently as possible under the circumstances.

Slytherin's eyes narrowed. "And what makes you think… that he is currently here?"

Draco paused, considering. "Merely a hunch. If you know otherwise, Captain, I'll search for him elsewhere… however I think what I have to say will interest him greatly. I would hate for him to become upset, should I tarry in sharing it with him."

The man's lips curled upwards into a smirk, and Draco knew that the message had been received. "An undesirable outcome for us all, to be sure."

Slytherin turned slightly in his portrait and barked a word in another language – almost definitely Chinese. A small oriental boy of about 8 appeared almost instantly. Slytherin's eyes flickered to Draco once as he issued the boy instructions in the same language, before making a dismissive gesture that sent the boy running.

A minute or so later, the boy reappeared, talking excitedly before he'd even come to a stop. Slytherin reached out and cuffed the boy – causing Granger to gasp in indignation – and the boy responded by becoming quiet and bowing his head to stare at his feet.

At a word from Slytherin, the boy spoke in a much more subdued voice. When he finished, he was sent off with a last word.

"Yess… you and your servant girl may enter. Captain Conk will be available to speak with you shortly."

Draco felt more than saw the girl beside him start to bristle at the insult. "Thank you," he said quickly to the man, then dragged Granger inside once the portrait opened.

"Stop dragging me around like a rag-doll, Malfoy! I am _not_ your servant, no matter what that horrid, arrogant, abusive –"

"Granger – first of all, that is the founder of my House that you are speaking about. Second, I would never mistake you for being any kind of servant, slave, or possession – of anyone, least of all mine. Third, what he did was hardly 'abusive.' Last, _it's just a painting_. You need to stop taking everything so seriously, alright?"

She folded her arms over her chest with a small _humph_, turning to look at the room in front of them.

"Wait here," he told her, after a moment of indecision.

She turned back to him, eyebrows raised. "Where are you going?"

"To find Professor Snape."

"Well, I'm going with you then," she stated.

"No, you're not. I doubt he would react well to discovering a Gryffindor wandering around in his private quarters. I can't even speak for how 'Captain Conk' might react, if that's who we're dealing with. Just be patient."

She didn't say anything, but made no move to follow as he started winding his way through his godfather's suite.

Reaching the bedroom and its myriad of bookcases, Draco paused halfway down the line, examining one shelf in particular. Reaching up, he hooked a finger on the spine of a large, title-less book, pulling it out slightly before pushing it back. He then pulled on the book beside it (_Gateways to the Dark_,) leaving it balanced at the edge of the shelf before pulling on a third book (_The Inner Workings of Potions._)

The bookcase beside him rumbled slightly before moving silently to one side, revealing a staircase going upwards. Draco began to ascend them, counting the steps.

Severus Snape was extremely paranoid about certain things, most especially his private working space. Draco was one of the few people that had an 'access pattern,' a way to get into the lab without being fried by the wards. He didn't know who else had one, but he did know that they were different for each person, and that if anyone else tried to use his, it wouldn't work out very well for that person.

Reaching the tenth step, he carefully stepped backwards to the seventh step and waited.

After a moment, a light appeared at the top of the otherwise-dark stairwell.

Quickly finishing his ascent, he opened the plain brown door, blinking at the bright, even lighting of the room behind it.

Severus spoke before Draco even said a word, not looking up from his bubbling cauldron. "This is a rather unexpected surprise, Draco. What brings you to my humble abode?"

He couldn't express how relieved he was to be called 'Draco,' rather than 'Drake.' "Sir, I'm going to come right out and say it – there is something wrong with everyone at Hogwarts. It's affecting their minds, somehow, making them think they're pirates and the like."

The other man's gaze rose from his cauldron, a single eyebrow arched. "What, pray tell, has led you to the conclusion that it is everyone, and not simply you?"

_Well, I wasn't expecting this to be easy._ "I'm not the only one to notice the incongruities, sir."

"No?" Severus asked, turning to retrieve an ingredient from his store cupboard.

"I've spoken to a few different people, and Hermione Granger has been witnessing the same oddities as I have." Draco winced slightly at how lame that sounded.

"You do not find it at all odd that it is only Miss Granger and yourself experiencing these effects?" Severus asked acerbically. He pulled out his wand and cast some kind of stasis spell on his potion, before turning a calculating stare onto Draco. "Might it, _perhaps_, have something to do with your accident of only last week?"

"We believe it _is_ connected, sir, but we're reasonably certain that it isn't just hallucinations," he said, trying not to clench his jaw. Why must his godfather be so difficult?

"And how did you become 'reasonably certain'?"

"The fact that Granger and I are seeing the exact same things was a large tip-off," he said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Indeed?" Severus turned, levitating the cauldron to a side table, then paused with his back still to Draco.

Draco raised an eyebrow, leaning to the side slightly to try and figure out what his godfather was looking at. It was the single portrait he kept in the room – undoubtedly so that he could receive communication from the Slytherin-portrait – but it had changed from an empty London street to an equally empty dirt road, running through a small, ocean-side village.

Smirking slightly, Draco returned to his previous position just before his godfather finished turning around.

Severus' eyes narrowed slightly at Draco's expression. "Tell me more about what you have been seeing, then," he said in a tone that suggested he was merely humoring the younger man, rather than asking a question he really wanted the answer to.

_Got him_. Draco tried to contain his victorious smile as he thought of an example. "Sir, have you been outside today?"

"I… have," Severus responded, frowning thoughtfully.

Draco pressed on, "Did you, perhaps, notice the sea breeze – all the way here in the middle of Scotland – or the ocean-going ship in the Black Lake?"

He nodded slowly, "I believe the strangest part of this is that it did not seem odd to me at the time." After a moment, his godfather continued, "You said that you have been working with Miss Granger on this matter?"

Draco nodded.

"Then perhaps we'd best go find her. The more information I can get, the better my chances of fixing this."

_He's switched to singular pronouns – that can't be good_…_._ "She's downstairs, actually."

Draco had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh at his godfather's expression of horror.

* * *

"_Just be patient_," she mocked quietly, a few minutes after Malfoy had disappeared.

She contemplated following him, but indecision and the fear of getting caught held her back. Not to mention that it would be Professor _Snape's_ quarters she would be nosing around in.

If the rumors were to believed, people who nosed around in the Professor's personal affects did not tend to _keep_ their noses (or some other, more vital, body pieces) for very long.

The rumors may, or may not, have been figurative.

She rather liked her nose where it was. It was possibly her best feature – she'd certainly look rather strange without it.

And so, with that in mind, Hermione staunchly resisted the urge to touch – or even look at – anything in Snape's sitting room.

_Although_….

What harm could just _looking_ at them do?

Especially over by that large, cluttered bookcase….

She glanced at the door that Malfoy had disappeared behind, but it was closed, giving her no hint as to what – or who – lay beyond.

Quashing her instinct to tip-toe like a misbehaving child, she quietly crossed the room to examine the titles stacked within the aforementioned bookcase.

It was floor-to-ceiling, its highly polished wood frame was completely free of dust – undoubtedly thanks to house-elf labor – and was crammed full of books about a range of different subjects.

Her eyebrows crept higher up her forehead in surprise as her eyes raked over the various titles, seeing everything from muggle science books to Transfiguration to the expected potions and magical defense books.

It was somehow disconcerting to see the works of William Shakespeare in the same bookcase as "_A Master's Guide to Transfiguration_," and "_Moste Potente Potions._"

Hermione had never seen such an eclectic collection of books all in one place before. That it belonged to Professor Severus Snape was… mind-boggling. She'd never considered that the man might be so well-read… though to be fair, she hadn't considered what _any_ of the teachers might do with their spare-time.

Of course, she'd always respected him for his knowledge in potions– nasty demeanor and questionable hygiene aside. Her respect had grown when she'd learned he was a spy for the Order, but shrunk again due to the events of last year (_couldn't he have given us even a __**small hint**__ he understood what Harry was saying?_) not even mentioning the continual "Snape-bashing" by Harry and Ron.

Seeing this library now gave her hope that some kind of alliance could be forged. After all, a man who enjoyed Shakespeare couldn't be nasty _all_ the time.

_Right?_

"Ahh, Miss Granger," said a voice from behind her. She jumped, squeaking in surprise and spinning to face her professor. His lip curled upwards in an amused smile before continuing his speech, voice practically dripping with sarcasm, "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to poke around…. I apologize for not coming down sooner to welcome you; I was unaware that I had an open-door policy for my private quarters."

_Or not._

It was a relief not to be called 'Miss Grant' or 'Lass' though. "I'm sorry, sir. The portrait indicated that it was alright."

He frowned. "Indeed," was all he said on the matter. "Mr. Malfoy," he said, sending a stern look towards the couch, where Draco was sitting casually, feet up on the coffee table, "has apprised me of the situation. I do, however, feel the need to inquire – why have you come to _me_ with this, rather than your own head-of-house?"

She shrunk slightly under his gaze, knowing that what she was about to tell him amounted to '_Well, sir, you were my last choice, actually._' "Sir, Professor McGonagall has already been affected by whatever this is that's happening."

"Affected how?" Professor Snape inquired. Hermione quickly summarized her earlier encounter with the woman while Snape looked thoughtful. When she finished, the man gestured to the couch, saying, "Take a seat, Miss Granger. Tell me more about what you've been seeing throughout the castle and grounds."

Feeling extremely hesitant but trying not to show it, Hermione crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the couch cushion and adjusting her bag to rest in her lap. The couch was a large one, turning sharply to form a ninety-degree angle. On her left was a large fireplace – undoubtedly connected to the Floo network – and in front of her was a medium-sized coffee table that nestled into the crook of the couch very nicely.

Draco sat in the opposite corner of the couch, looking completely relaxed, with his arms spread over the back of the couch and his feet still on the table. In fact, it almost looked like he was asleep.

She scowled at him. _Thanks a lot, Malfoy… leaving me to talk to Snape on my own…. _

"I do not have all night, Miss Granger. If you would kindly begin?"

She jumped slightly, nearly falling off the couch altogether. "Um, right, of course. Err," she started quickly, then stopped, forcing herself to take a breath. What was it about Slytherin men making her tongue-tied?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy smirking at her.

_Well, at least he's not __**asleep**__._

After a moment she started listing the oddities that she'd noticed, starting with the tropical storm and working her way up to the brainstorming session she and Draco had in the library. The older man started pacing not long into her speech, and she angled herself to the right so that she could watch him easier. "We, uh, came up with a few theories, but none of them seem all that likely, really. As Malfoy pointed out, we're both seeing the same things, so it can't just be hallucinations, and we can't still be under the affects of the charm because it should have worn off by now, even with my modifications…."

Professor Snape interrupted her there, pausing in his pacing to stare at her. "Tell me more about this Daydream Charm. What were the original components of it, and what, precisely, did you do to alter it?"

Her brain stuttered as she realized what her answer to that question would have to be. "It's –" she started in a whisper, but cleared her throat and began again more firmly – "It's a Weasley Twin's product. I don't – I don't know what the exact charms are that they use. I mean, I can guess – _Adfero Somnium_, or a variation thereof, but I don't _know_ for sure…." The professor stared at her as if she were something on the bottom of his shoe. She hurried on, trying not to wince at the expression on his face. "I do have a complete list of the charms I used, though," she said, opening her bag and pulling out her notes on the subject.

They were taken from her hand almost as soon as she brought them out. Her brows met in annoyance as she watched the man sneer, dark eyes skimming quickly over her notes. She wondered briefly if he sneered like that when he read her essays.

"How typically Gryffindor of you to alter an unknown charm – something even the best Charms Masters would hesitate to do – and without a thought about the consequences. Miss Granger, frankly, I am shocked to find you still breathing and mobile after this act of idiocy. That you have caused such a rift in the fabric of reality is unsurprising."

"Rift in the fabric…?" she repeated weakly.

Professor Snape waved a dismissive hand, eyes still roving over her notes. When he'd finished, he walked around the couch, setting the parchment on the corner of the coffee table furthest from her, and sat down in an old, battered armchair that sat diagonally in the corner. "The first step, Miss Granger, is to find out what exactly Mr. Weasley and his twin enchant their little baubles with. Once that has been ascertained, I shall take your findings to the Headmaster, and he and I shall attempt to repair this hideously large blunder."

Hermione stared at him, unable to think of anything to say. How was she supposed to get Fred and George to spill their secrets? And what was this 'The Headmaster and I' business? Was he not even giving her a _chance_ to help? Not to mention the fact –

"I'm sure he'll be tickled to introduce you to his singing fish," Draco said wryly.

– _the fact that Dumbledore had been affected as well,_ her thoughts finished redundantly.

The professor's eyebrows twitched upwards. "Pardon?"

"Professor Dumbledore has been affected as well, sir," Hermione supplied. "Possibly even worse than Professor McGonagall has." At Professor Snape's prompt, Hermione summarized her and Malfoy's meeting with the Headmaster, frowning in thought as she mentioned Fawkes.

_The phoenix's form shimmered slightly, and for a moment – barely a fraction of a second – he looked like a Macaw._

It seemed as though the Strangeness was having a hard time effecting Fawkes… but _why?_

The professor frowned as well. "This requires more thought. However, I still believe it will be beneficial to get that information from the Weasley twins."

She nodded, sighing silently. "I'd best get a start on getting that from them, then, hadn't I?"

Professor Snape fixed her with a calculating stare. "Be discreet, Miss Granger, but get the information at all costs. We cannot allow this to continue for very long."

She nodded again, standing. She eyed her notes, wanting them with her, but not quite daring to reach across the intervening space to retrieve them. "I'll owl them immediately."

She watched as he distractedly gathered her notes, standing from his chair and walking towards the door that Draco had disappeared behind earlier. Grimacing, she started towards the door, hearing Malfoy stand up and start to follow behind her.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, a word, if you would?" Snape called, just before they reached the portrait-hole.

Draco rolled his eyes and mouthed '_go on_,' at her before turning and going back into the second room. She caught sight of a couple bookcases before the door closed.

Anxiety level rising, she started for the library, planning to draft a letter to the twins immediately.

* * *

**A/N:** Um. Hi there!

So... that was chapter 5. Hope you guys enjoyed it. It's about twice as long as my normal chapters, if you didn't notice, but I just had to do the "Conversation with Snape" all in one chapter.

That's really all I have to say (except for "Thank you all so much for the reviews!")

Later.


	6. Hailing Houseelves&Cryptic Conversations

**Disclaimer: **-tilts head one way- -tilts head other way- -blinks- -shakes head- -puts away mirror- I still don't look like J.K.R.

_Added AN: Apparently the alert system is malfunctioning or something, and a lot of/most people didn't get emailed, so I've reposted in an effort to fix that. Sorry if anyone got two alerts._

* * *

Chapter 6 (_Hailing House-elves and Cryptic Conversations_)

* * *

She never made it to the library.

Partway there, she'd been reminded by her stomach– rather loudly– that she'd missed dinner. So, instead of taking the turn towards the library, she continued to descend the many staircases of Hogwarts, heading towards the kitchens.

She moved through the hallways quickly, only peripherally aware of the strange portraits she was passing. The various sea-faring folk that now took up residence were much livelier (_rowdier might be a better word, actually,_) than their wizarding counterparts, but to some extent she'd already become accustomed to it. Occasionally there would be an extremely odd portrait that still had the appearance of what it was before, but acted in a completely different manner (such as those swearing monks she'd passed earlier, or that… _**mime**_…) She shuddered, pushing the mime away from her thoughts.

Finally nearing the kitchens, her footsteps slowed, guilt worming its way into her brain.

S.P.E.W. had faded into the background last year due to the frenzy over the O.W.L.s and the Umbridge fiasco, but she'd never forgotten that she ate regular meals and had clean clothing to wear everyday due to slave labor.

What right did she have to ask the already overworked elves to make a special meal, just for her?

Her stomach protested this line of reasoning, and she grimaced. Perhaps there would be leftovers that she could nick. That way, the house-elves wouldn't have to cook anything, and her stomach wouldn't mutiny and kill her in her sleep.

Pleased with this compromise, she continued down the hallway, coming to a halt in front of where the hardtack and grog portrait hung on the wall.

_Wait. What?_

Hesitatingly, she reached up to brush her fingers against the portrait where the pear used to be (which now coincided with the hardtack.) Only slightly relieved when there was a giggle and a doorknob formed in her hand, she pulled the portrait open, bracing herself for anything.

"Heave HO! Be gettin' it movin', be gettin' it movin' now! We is havin' a long ways to be takin' it!" a high-pitched voice yelled.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light that flooded out of the kitchens, then gasped at what she saw.

The room was the same as it always was, with a giant fireplace taking up the majority of the far wall, piles of copper pots strewn across the many surfaces of the room, house-elves scrambling around, cooking and cleaning and doing a variety of other things.

In fact, the only visible change in the room was the house-elves' uniforms. She watched as various colors of stocking-caps bobbed in and out of sight as the elves worked. House-elves with green caps seemed to be the ones giving orders, while the ones in yellow and blue worked diligently at scrubbing the pots and floors. The ones in red seemed to be working just as hard, though she caught them making faces at the order-givers once their backs were turned. Except for color, the uniforms were… well, uniform, with each house-elf wearing a striped shirt (the color of its hat, horizontally striped with white,) knee-length trousers, sandals, and, of course, the stocking-caps.

The uniforms reminded her irrepressibly of a cartoon character she'd seen as a child.

"HEAVE, ye scurvy, bilge-suckin' elves!" came another high-pitched yell.

She turned just in time to see a quartet of house-elves surrounding a comparatively huge barrel that lay on its side. She could just see the head and shoulders of the three elves that stood behind it, nearly hidden behind the width of the wooden cask. The fourth elf stood atop it, arms folded over his green-and-white striped shirt as he shouted at the other three. The three gave a mighty shove, and the barrel began to roll towards the exit with a low rumbling noise, and, arms flailing, the house-elf in green tried to maintain his position on top of the barrel. Eyes wide, Hermione stepped out of the way as they passed, watching helplessly as the flailing elf finally fell and started running from the ever-quickening barrel, all the while shouting insults at the other three.

The portrait swung shut behind them.

She blinked.

"Miss Hermione!"

She turned just in time to see a streak of maroon dashing towards her, and she was barely able to brace herself before it launched itself into a rather strangling embrace around her middle.

"Dobby– I can't breathe…"

The house-elf dropped a few inches when he let go, beaming up at her. "Dobby is pleased to see Miss. The other elves… they is acting very strange now. Dobby is not understanding why, Miss, but…." He shook his head. "Is there anything Dobby can do for Miss?"

Her eyebrows rose of their own accord at Dobby's unfinished sentence, but she decided to tackle one thing at a time. "Actually, Dobby, there is. You see, I missed dinner, and–"

Before she could even finish the sentence, Dobby had pulled her over to a table which was laden with food and pushed her into a seat.

Too hungry to particularly care what she was eating, she began the demanding process of appeasing her stomach. Which is to say, she began to shovel in food at a rate that would've made even Ron stop and stare at her.

Between bites, she pulled out a spare bit of parchment and a self-inking quill from her bag, setting it beside her plate and staring at it blankly as she ate. She had no idea what to write. The twins guarded their secrets jealously, even amongst their own family.

_Be discreet_, Snape had said.

She grimaced, putting quill to parchment. It was unlikely that the twins would respond to a 'discreet' inquiry, but if the first letter failed, she could always try again.

* * *

(_Meanwhile_)

* * *

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, a word, if you would?" his godfather called, just before they reached the portrait-hole.

_I really wouldn't_… he thought defiantly, but merely rolled his eyes, mouthing the words '_go on_' at Granger before turning to follow Severus into the man's bedroom. Which actually sounded a whole lot creepier than it was.

His back was turned when Draco entered, and Draco shut the door behind him lest prying Gryffindor eyes linger outside.

Severus pulled a book out of the shelf, and, with a rumble, the bookcase once more slid aside, revealing a staircase that went down. Not even bothering to motion for Draco to follow, his godfather began to descend.

Trying to fight down his impatience, he followed.

"Have you eaten, Draco?"

"No, sir," he responded as they reached the bottom of the flight of stairs.

They exited through a secret door in Snape's dungeon office. It was truly impressive magic to be able to descend seven floors so quickly. They seated themselves in their usual seats.

"Reet!"

With a _pop_, a house-elf appeared. "Aye, sir?"

They stared at the creature's attire – a green-and-white striped shirt, knee-pants, and a green stocking-cap – for a moment before Severus reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, frowning. "Bring us sandwiches and tea."

The house-elf saluted, disappearing with another _pop_.

Professor Snape shook his head slightly, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out a small vial, opening it with a practiced flick of his thumb and downing it in one swallow.

_Great. He has a headache,_ Draco thought grumpily, watching the older man glare down at the hapless essays awaiting a grade.

The sandwiches and tea appeared a moment later, and Severus helped himself to a cup of tea without even looking up from the topmost essay.

Draco grabbed a sandwich, too hungry to care that it tasted like fish. When he'd finished his meal and his godfather still hadn't spoken, he grew impatient. "Was there something you wished to speak to me about, Severus?"

Finally the man looked up from the essay, eyes narrowing. He picked up a sandwich of his own, taking a bite before replying. "This new development complicates matters, Draco. If we do not repair this blunder before Saturday…"

His father. Of course. "I know."

"I'm not sure that you do," he replied cryptically. "You should owl your mother. Perhaps she can convince him to wait a week."

"Fine, but you know it will be fruitless," Draco sighed.

"Perhaps," Snape met his eyes, and though there was no pull of Legilimency, it made him uneasy. Apparently the man decided a subject change was in order. "What of Miss Granger?"

Draco stiffened in his seat. "What about her?"

His godfather glared at him as if he were being deliberately obtuse. Which he was. "Is she aware of your _role_?"

"No. I wouldn't endanger–"

Severus silenced him with a motion of his hand. "The mission, yes, but what of her? What of _you_? Have you thought–"

"Of course I have!" he snapped.

Snape glowered at him. "_And?_"

"It's not like we're broadcasting it to the whole school. We both know how to be discreet, despite what you may think," he said, taking another sandwich from the tray and biting it more out of anger than hunger.

"Draco…" Snape sighed tiredly.

He shook his head, swallowing the food in his mouth. "I'm tired of pretending to hate people I don't even know, Severus. You said yourself that I'm a– how did you put it– _adequate_ Occlumens. I can–"

Severus interrupted him. "Do you honestly believe that you can keep a _romantic_–"

"We're not '_romantic_,'" Draco scowled, returning the favor of being interrupted. "We're friends, nothing more."

His godfather seemed dubious. "I shall take your word for it, Draco, but–"

"I know."

"You don't. I can see it in your eyes when you look at her, Draco. You are… interested."

He grimaced, having hoped that it wasn't _quite_ that obvious. "I may be, but she would never–"

"Stranger things have happened."

"This won't," Draco stated firmly, if a bit wistfully.

The two men eyed each other for a moment before Severus nodded. "Very well. Remember to owl your mother."

Draco nodded, recognizing the dismissal. He stood, then hesitated. He gestured towards the hidden door and its tempting shortcut to the sixth floor. "May I?"

One dark brow rising, Professor Snape nodded, flicking his wand towards the door to open it and temporarily release the wards.

Nodding again in thanks, Draco ascended the short staircase, already composing the message he would send home.

* * *

_A/N:_ It's short (comparatively.) I'm sorry. I promise chapter 7 will come soon. And it'll be a dramatic one! I know this because it's already almost done. But I only made you wait for this one for, what, 20 days? something like that. I was busy with... umm.. slacking off.

Yep. So, four things before I leave you to go back to writing chapter 7:

1) The first one to correctly name the cartoon character the house-elves' uniformed reminded Hermione of, I shall reward... with a digital cookie XD

2) I'd love to hear any theories, no matter how wild you might think they are, about what's happening. (As in, why is everyone except certain people in the story acting pirate-y.) I promise not to spoil the story, but I'd really enjoy reading all of your theories!

3) I recently got invited to a really cool Harry Potter messageboard called The Bookshelf. It'd be awesome if you all checked it out and joined: the-bookshelf. forumotion. com (remove the spaces.)

4) Review!

I'd really love it if you do

You know you really want to

I'll give you a chapter that is new

If you just review.

-Lild


	7. Random Realizations

_**Disclaimer: **_BEAR ATTACK!

* * *

Chapter 7 (_Random Realizations_)

* * *

She moved towards the Owlery quickly, determined to send her freshly-inked letter off before curfew. She hated being out alone in the corridors after sundown– No matter how long she'd lived in the castle, it still gave her the creeps sometimes. What if some denizen of the Forbidden Forest got inside the castle some night, and no one knew until it started eating students? What if the Basilisk _had_ had babies, and even now they were slithering around in the pipes (which was impossible, but that didn't stop her from thinking about it)? What if–

A noise behind her nearly sent her shrieking down the corridor, but instead she spun to face it, eyes squinted half-closed and wand firmly in her grip, prepared to fight whatever kind of monster it might be.

It turned out to be the smirking, blond kind.

"Jumpy, Granger?"

"Only when people try to sneak up on me," she said crossly, waiting until he fell into step beside her. "How did you find me, anyway?"

Draco shrugged. "Accidentally." When she glanced at him skeptically, he held up a closed envelope. "I have my own letter I need to send."

"Ah."

They walked down the corridor in silence for awhile, and Hermione marveled at how less-scary the corridors were when one had company– even if said company was Draco Malfoy.

As they neared the staircase that would take them to the Owlery, Draco spoke again. "I presume that you've finished the letter to the Weasleys?"

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Professor Snape asked you to make sure I was '_discreet,_' didn't he," she said, making it a statement.

One corner of his mouth curled up, as if he were enjoying a private joke. "Something like that."

"I suppose you want to read it before I send it, then?" she asked.

"And see your attempt at making-nice with a couple of Weasleys? Hell no. If he's that worried about it, he can read it himself," he said with a small smile.

She found herself smiling back without making the conscious decision to do so. His smile, so rarely seen, was really quite infectious. She traced the way his lips quirked upwards at the corners with her eyes, admiring the way that it seemed to make his whole face light up, his eyes sparkling in the flickering torch light.

Abruptly, she realized she was staring at him and she tore her gaze away, hoping that he hadn't noticed. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she cursed the brain cells that always seemed to turn to mush around the blond. Even when she'd had that small crush on Ron, she'd never stared at his lips, or-

Her mind froze in its tracks, even as her feet continued to ascend the staircase towards the Owlery. Had she been about to think of _kissing_ him? _Really_?

It was… it was… well, it was the same adjectives she'd used earlier that day when she'd considered the possibility of being attracted to him! Impossible! Absurd! Ridiculous! But she couldn't deny that the thought had crossed her mind… nor could she deny that it had been an intriguingly pleasant idea.

"…Hermione?"

She blinked, realizing they were at the top of the staircase. Dra– Mal– hell, she didn't know _what_ to call him anymore– was staring at her questioningly. "Uh. Sorry, just got… lost in thought I guess," she said, trying to sound normal.

One blond eyebrow rose in inquiry, but she pretended not to see it, slipping past him into the Owlery. She didn't get very far, stopping abruptly when she laid eyes on the nearest bird.

She staggered forward a step as Draco bumped into her from behind.

He hastily stepped back. "Why did you– what the hell is _that_?"

She shook herself slightly, wondering why the changes still managed to surprise her. "I believe it's a pelican."

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, thank you, I did know that. What I meant to say is what the hell is a pelican doing in the Owlery."

"_Lumos Minimus_," she whispered, pointing her wand at the floor. The dim light illuminated the room somewhat better than the ambient light of the stars and moon had done previously, allowing them to see the outlines of other pelicans lining the areas usually filled with owls. She nodded to herself, suspicions confirmed. "It's not an Owlery anymore."

Draco huffed with impatience– or was it amusement? "So what is it, then? A Pelicanry?"

"I don't think that's a word," she said, mouth twitching upwards.

Bringing out the letter she'd written earlier, she turned to the table by the door, taking one of the envelopes that were kept there as a courtesy. She sealed the letter into the envelope with her wand, before turning and approaching the first bird she saw. It was a pretty pinkish-gray color, and it cracked open one dark eye as she approached. With a sleepy grunt, it opened its bill wide enough for her to insert her letter, closing its eyes again. Hesitating only slightly, she slid the letter into its mouth, watching as it accepted this with a sleepy murmur of sound.

There was a squeaky bark-like noise from the other side of the room.

"OW! Bloody buggering mmph!"

She spun quickly, surprised and concerned by the sudden burst of noise. Malfoy stood with a finger in his mouth, which he withdrew after a moment to examine, scowling at a comparatively small, dark brown pelican that held a letter in its bill. It glared right back.

"Goddamn ugly, stupid bird," Malfoy ranted, shaking his injured hand before sticking it back in his mouth.

Hermione was reminded forcibly of the last time Malfoy was attacked by a bird-like creature, any sympathy she had felt fading to nothing. "Did you insult him _before_ he bit you, too?" she asked scathingly.

She turned and walked out of the Owlery– Pelicanry– whatever it was– confused beyond reason, not even understanding _why_ she was suddenly so confused.. With each step, she moved faster, until she was running flat out, trying to outrun the memories that were flooding into her mind–

_Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood_, the word repeating in his voice was the theme– the background and his face changing through the years, but never the message.

She remembered his smug arrogance in third year, when he taunted her and her friends with Buckbeak's upcoming execution. She remembered his idiotic badges in fourth year, and his annoying Quidditch chant in fifth. Then there was his work on the Inquisitional Squad… _God, that was less than a year ago!_

How could she have thought she liked him? How could she have forgotten all of the rotten things that he had done? She was forgiving by nature, true, but he'd never made any motion towards making amends, never even indicated that he was sorry….

Her mind flashed back to the incident with that drunken pirate in the dark alley, and she grimaced. Suddenly, instead of bad things, her brain decided to start reminding her of the good things he'd done. Him saving her from Greyback (twice!), the concern he'd shown during her sword duel and in the crow's nest, the spiders, the alcove when they were hiding from the scorpion-beast….

But none of it made any sense. Why was he doing this, acting like her friend, acting like he _enjoyed_ her company? What could he possibly be after?

What the hell was she thinking, _believing_ that he wanted to be friends? After six long years of proof to the contrary?

Her feet pounded against the wet stone of the outdoor walkway, not unlike her mind, throbbing with misgivings and questions that she had no answer to. She skidded in a puddle, nearly falling due to the unexpected slickness, and so she slowed down before she wound up hurting herself. Her hand came to rest against the rough stone wall as her feet stilled; breathing hard from the run, she turned to brace her back against the solid rock.

She tilted her head back, almost moaning aloud with her confusion.

Why were these doubts only occurring to her _now_, after she had spent the entire day with him? Why couldn't she have realized before that something was off, that this didn't make any sense? Draco's actions went completely against her understanding of his character – an understanding she admitted was flawed, but still… it just didn't seem right for enemies to suddenly become friends… or more than friends….

But were they? Were they friends? Were they… more?

She reexamined the way the scene in the West Tower had played out, remembering the lurch her heart had given at Draco's cry of pain, the brief flash of panic… and then she realized, stomach lurching uncomfortably….

She was falling for Draco Malfoy.

* * *

He stared after the girl, gobsmacked. She walked out without a backward glance, and he heard her break into a run in the stairwell.

Belatedly, he removed the finger from his mouth. "What the _hell_ just happened?" he asked, glancing at the brown pelican that had bit him for no reason other than its displeasure at being disturbed.

It merely blinked at him before tilting its head so that his letter disappeared into its pouch, settling in to go back to sleep.

"Fat lot of help you've been," he muttered, hurrying out the door and down the staircase, hoping that the insane Gryffindor hadn't completely disappeared yet.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, eyebrows twitching upwards as he spotted her– back against the wall and illuminated only by moonlight– near the end of the outdoor walk that led to the Owlery.

He approached her quietly, using his long legs to his advantage in avoiding the puddles that dotted the stone. As he got nearer, he realized that her eyes were closed, face tilted toward the sky. He stared at the smooth, creamy expanse of her neck, noting how her skin seemed almost spectral in the silver light of the moon.

He sat on the low wall across from her, contemplating how best to make her aware of his presence. He didn't want to startle her.

Before he could decide, her eyes flashed open with a look akin to a cornered animal's, flighty and confused, though she made no move to leave.

Conflicting emotions made it difficult to speak at first, but eventually his anger won, as it so often did. "Do you want to tell me what that was about?" he asked quietly, barely able to keep the growl from his voice.

Her arms folded across her chest defensively, chin jutting forward defiantly. "No, not really." She started towards the entrance into the castle proper, not looking back.

His jaw clenched, and before he thought about what he was doing, he grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. "Tell me."

She glared at him, uncrossing her arms, then recrossing them, as if she couldn't decide what to do with them. "You're so smart, _Malfoy_," she spat caustically, causing memories of their horrid past to jolt through him, "you figure it out."

When she turned to leave again, he didn't stop her.

_Did you insult him __**before**__ he bit you, too?_ He realized now that it had nothing to do with the bloody bird. It was about that Hippogriff in third year. Maybe even more than just that– there were certainly enough events in their past that she could choose from to be angry about– but he'd thought she had forgiven–

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt on that word.

He searched frantically through his memories of the past few days– he'd never… how could he have forgotten? It wasn't something he did often but–

He took off running. He had to find her. He ignored the portraits calls to slow down, ("_Arr, matey, slow down before ye run heart-first onto somebody's blade!_") winding his way towards the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, hoping that's where she was going.

It was. He skidded around a corner just in time to see her turn down another corridor, and he sped up. She must have heard his footfalls by now, but she made no sign of it, continuing to walk determinedly down the passageway. He ducked in front of her, forcing her to stop.

"What," she demanded flatly, refusing to meet his eyes and instead glaring at his chin.

His jaw clenched with nervousness, but he refused to lose his nerve now after running her down. He reached forward and gently raised her chin until she met his eyes, thankful that she didn't try to look away again. "I'm sorry, Hermione." She blinked once in surprise, confusion still evident in her eyes. He continued, "For everything I've done to you in the five plus years we've been at school together. For every time I've insulted you." He stopped there before he started sounding like a ponce.

"I–" she started, but stopped, turning to look at the wall.

He looked at the floor, nervous again. Had he misread the situation? Was there something more he had to apologize for?

A lock of his hair shifted and fell in front of his eyes, and he realized with a flash of annoyance that his gel-charm had worn off. Before he could react, gentle fingers brushed it aside, lingering a moment before withdrawing. He glanced up as she was leaning in, shocked when he felt her lips on his cheek.

"Goodnight, Draco," she said softly. Then she was gone.

* * *

Unaware of the drama unfolding several floors above, old magic was stirring.

In its prime, the enchantment would have been nearly instantaneous– as soon as the magic was needed, it would activate and perform its function.

Now, however, the magic was old. Perhaps even ancient by human standards, though the enchantment itself was timeless. Had it a physical form, it would be dusty, cobwebbed, and rusted. The hinges would creak and complain– if it worked at all.

It had been centuries since it was last invoked– and even longer since it had originally been put in place.

It was a powerful enchantment, and thus required a lot of power to become fully active.

The power was present, ready for the taking. It was almost ready.

* * *

A/N: I am so tired of this chapter. So glad it's done. I intended to post it _last_ week, but then "wait this paragraph could be better!" + writers' block. Blargh.

Anyway, only a couple people correctly identified the cartoon character the house-elves' uniforms were modeled after: Mr. Smee in Peter Pan. So congrats Ellarose C, quik-wit, and TwinkieTUTUs on figuring it out!

The next chapter has three (er, four) characters that I love to play with but hate to write, so... yeah. I'll try and get that one to you guys soon.

As ever, thanks to my wonderful reviewers and my excellent betas... (keep the speculation coming guys, I love to hear it!)

Until next time, whenever that may be -sigh.-

P.S. oh yeah, as of this chapter, this story exceeds the word count of Strange Daydreams by 700 words, and is within 25 reviews of matching its review count.


	8. Enter the Weasley Twins

**Disclaimer:** Two bear attacks and a swarm of bees!

* * *

Chapter 8 (_Enter the Weasley Twins_)

* * *

Wednesday morning dawned brightly on the snow-covered street of Diagon Alley. A slightly disgruntled owl flew to the window of the building marked with a big bold '93', presenting its letter to the first redhead it saw.

Fred took the letter and read through it, distractedly giving the owl a treat.

"Oi, George!" Fred called, pushing his way through the back door of their shop and into the storerooms. His twin appeared from the far-most room—the work room—after a moment, an inquisitive look on his face. Fred held up a piece of parchment in his hand. "Just got an owl from Hermione, listen to this—" Fred held the letter before him importantly, clearing his throat. "_Dear Fred and George_—

"Pleasantries, yadda yadda… ah, '_I tried out your Daydream Charm the other day. I must say, it really is impressive magic… but I seem to have run into a slight problem with the charm._'—"

"What kind of problem? Does she say?" George interrupted.

"No, as a matter of fact, she does _not_. A mite curious, in my opinion."

"Indeed," George responded, grabbing the letter and reading it for himself. When he finished, he looked up at his twin, eyes shining with mischief. "Wants to know what spells we used, does she? We can't have that, bad for business that is, sharing our secrets."

Fred's eyes narrowed at his brother, wondering what he was thinking – for, contrary to popular belief, they couldn't read each other's thoughts. "True…"

George grinned, placing a hand on his twin's shoulder. "Fancy a trip to Hogwarts?"

Fred's expression suddenly matched his brother's. "Always."

* * *

An hour later, after they'd gotten Lee Jordan to watch the shop for them, they arrived in Hogsmeade.

"Uhh, George, how're we gonna get in?" Fred asked suddenly.

George gave him a look that implied he was questioning his brother's intelligence. "Have you already forgotten what day it is?"

"It's Wednesday– ohhh, of course. Sorry, my head's been more into shop advertisements than is healthy."

George nodded sympathetically as they neared the Hog's Head. "This trip will be good for us, I think."

The bar was practically empty when they entered, so their quarry was easy to spot. Though, that wasn't saying much, since he was easy to spot no matter where he was. Slipping easily into their 'two bodies, one mind,' act, they dropped into the empty seats that were opposite the large man.

"Hello, Hagrid," they chorused.

Hagrid started slightly, obviously surprised to see them. "Fred an' George Weasley! Wha're yeh two doin' up this way?"

"Oh, you know–"

"–just thought we'd pop by–"

"–visit our favorite gamekeeper–"

"–see how ol' Hogwarts is fairing–"

"–visit our little brother and sister–"

"–just the usual."

Hagrid gave a bark of laughter. "Wan' me ter let'cha in, do yeh?"

"Only if–"

"–you wouldn't mind."

"Naw, I don' see why not. Yeh can help me with a few thin's."

"We'd be–"

"–delighted."

* * *

'A few things,' turned out to be several large barrels, and a surprising amount of nondescript sacks.

"What's all this, then?" George wondered aloud, glancing at Hagrid.

"Jus' the necessities, see? Yeh got yer grog, yer flour fer hardtack, an' the p'taters o' course. Can' go without the p'taters," the half-giant chuckled, picking up half a dozen sacks of flour and loading them into a large cart.

Exchanging curious looks, the twins began levitating the supplies into the cart. Once the loading was done, Hagrid climbed up on the front of the wagon, taking up reigns that attached to thin air.

"Ah, would yeh mind lightenin' the load up a bit, boys? Don' wan' the Threstrals ter get too tired ou', yeh see," Hagrid said, sounding almost sheepish.

"Of course," they chorused, always eager to show off their magical skills. Once the lightening enchantment was in place, they clambered up beside him, and they were off towards the castle.

* * *

As they passed through the wards, Fred frowned. "Does it suddenly–"

"–feel warmer?" his brother finished, also frowning.

Hagrid glanced at them. "Aye, 'twas mighty unseasonable down a' the town. Don' un'erstan' it meself, bu' I never was much fer weather."

The twins exchanged another look. "Say, Hagrid–"

"–how long has Hogsmeade–"

"–been… different?"

"Oh, no more'n a couple days. I reckon 'twas fine when I wen' down there on Saturday." A look of confusion passed over his large face, but it was gone again quickly as he shook his shaggy head. "We're almos' ter the castle, now."

"Ah, right…. Well, it was–"

"–a pleasure to see you again, Hagrid–"

"Thanks for the ride," they finished together.

"Aw, 'twas nothin'. Bu' don' go interruptin' any classes, now, yeh hear? T'would be me hide if yeh do!"

The twins looked at him, identical expressions of innocence on their faces. "Would we do that?"

"Oi, don' make me regret bringin' yeh two!"

"Alright, alright, we promise to behave," Fred said.

Only George could see the crossed fingers.

* * *

They arrived inside the castle almost at the exact moment the lunch bell rang. They grinned knowingly at each other, heading into the Great Hall amidst the crush of students. No one seemed to notice the addition of two freckled faces in their midst, which was, for the moment, fine with the twins. There would be time for advertising the shop later.

Fred's eyes skimmed over the Gryffindor table as they approached, searching for the brown bush of hair that heralded Hermione's presence in a room. As usual, she was found easily, sandwiched between Harry and Ron.

Nudging his twin, Fred nodded in their direction. Wearing matching grins, they descended on the trio.

"–were you yesterday, 'Mione?" Harry was asking.

The twins sat down heavily on the open seats to either side of them, interrupting their conversation.

George, the one closer to Ron, stole a roll off their brother's plate. "You don't mind if I steal this, do you, ickle Ronniekins?"

"Oi! George, Fred, what the hell are you two doing here?" Ron asked indignantly.

"What, we can't come and visit our ickle siblings?" Fred asked, glancing at Hermione. Hermione was looking back and forth between them, eyes wide and mouth slightly slack, the perfect picture of shock.

"And if we–" George started.

"–make a few sales–" Fred picked up the thread easily, tearing his attention away from Hermione.

"–while we're here–"

"–then all the better!"

Harry shook his head. "So you just randomly decided to pay us a visit?"

George raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who shook her head very slightly.

"Yup!"

"Who's watching the store?" Ron asked, curious.

"I don't see–"

"–how that concerns you–"

"–but for your information–"

"–Lee is."

"Now, if you don't mind–"

"–_we_ are going to enjoy this magnificent lunch."

As the twins filled their plates, Hermione was the first one to jump into conversation. "How are you two doing on your Transfiguration essays? They're due tomorrow you know."

At this, Harry and Ron groaned. "Couldn't you just–" Ron started.

Hermione huffed in exasperation. "No, Ron, I '_couldn't just_' anything. You need to do your own work."

"'Mione," he whined.

George poked him in the side. "She said no, mate."

"You stay out of this," Ron said sulkily, stuffing his mouth full of food.

Hermione shook her head, and, quickly finishing her own lunch, she stood. "Well, I'm off to the library. Have fun at Quidditch practice, boys. Oh… and Fred, George, don't sell anything _too_ dangerous to the students, alright?"

Harry and Ron sent her a blank look. "What are you talking about, 'Mione?" Harry asked. "What's Quidditch?"

"Is that some kind of Muggle sport?" Ron added.

Hermione froze, gaping at them.

The twins exchanged a look. "Ron, have you–"

"–gone completely–"

"–and utterly–"

"–barmy? Quidditch is only–"

"–the best–"

"–most thrilling–"

"–beloved–"

"–Wizarding sport–"

"–of all time!"

Ron blinked. "Never heard of it."

"Right, my mistake. What _do_ you have scheduled for this afternoon?" Hermione asked quickly, before the gobsmacked twins could say anything else.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, as if they were concerned for their friend's sanity. "We're going to watch the rigging monkey races, 'Mione, you know that. We've got good coin on Colin Salvo to win it."

"Right, of course," she said weakly. "Anyway…you know where to find me."

The twins got up quickly, following her out.

* * *

Hermione was not having a good day. She'd spent the night, tossing and turning, thinking about Draco's apology. He'd seemed so sincere… and wasn't that what she'd wanted? For him to show remorse?

The whole thing was somehow surreal. '_I'm sorry, Hermione_,' he had said. No matter how many times she repeated it in her head, she couldn't make sense of it. It was too blunt, too direct. It had to have some twist, some hidden meaning…. Slytherins just weren't supposed to be that straightforward… they were vague and cryptic… they never expressed guilt, as was inherent in an apology–

But that was a stereotype, wasn't it? She was doing it again, grouping all Slytherins into a single category. And even if most _were_ like that, that didn't mean they all were, or even that they were like that _all _the time.

She wanted to forgive him– she really did– but there was still something nagging her about the whole situation. Something that she was missing.

How could someone change that quickly? Go from being an egotistical, bigoted, hateful prat, to being a charming, witty, _attractive_ prat?

And then there was that kiss. That stupid, impulsive, thoughtless kiss.

What must he think of her? Had she telegraphed her feelings to him? What would he say? What could _she_ say? What _should_ she say? What if he thought her some kind of… _scarlet woman_? Well, she'd slap his mouth off his face, that's what, but all the same– Oh. But what if… what if he thought nothing of it, thought it was just a friendly kiss on the cheek– which it was, but at the same time it wasn't– but if that's all he thought, then she'd been avoiding him for nothing–

And she had been avoiding him all morning, primarily because of the kiss and her own speechlessness in regards to it. Avoiding him hadn't been difficult, of course, since they didn't have any classes together on Wednesday mornings, but she could practically feel his eyes on her in the hallways. She'd carefully made sure never to be alone… though that in itself had caused a problem, since the boys had noticed her absence the day before. Harry had already asked her twice where she'd been, and she knew she would have to have a really good story for next time, instead of another evasion. Really, it was lucky the twins arrived when they had… though she was still annoyed with them for _showing up_ at all, rather than just sending her a letter....

Hearing footsteps behind her, she stopped abruptly and turned, crossing her arms as she waited for the redheaded duo to catch up.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Fred demanded once they reached her. "No Quidditch?!"

"You two weren't supposed to just bloody well show up!" she growled, glaring at them in annoyance. "Why couldn't you have just sent me a letter!"

"You were rather vague in your letter, love–" George frowned impatiently.

"–and if there's one thing you never are–" Fred continued, displaying his own annoyance at the situation.

"–it's vague," they ended together. They crossed their arms and glared, as if daring her to continue evading the question.

She ignored the dig about her usual wordiness, as well as their challenge. "You two need to leave. I don't know how long it'll take for you two to be affected– or even if you will be– but we can't risk it. Tell me what spells you use on your charm, then leave. Go back to your shop, where it's safe, okay? Please?"

They spoke so quickly that their words practically overlapped.

"Not until–"

"–you tell us–"

"–what's going on–"

"–around here–"

"–and probably–"

"–not even then."

She threw her hands up in frustration. "Fine! I'll tell you, but you can't tell _anyone_ else, alright? If word gets out that everyone here is…" she struggled for an appropriate word.

"Deranged?" a drawling voice finished for her.

She didn't need to turn and look to confirm that it was Draco; one look at the twins' stiffened posture and murderous looks did the job. Glancing at the ceiling in a silent plea for patience, she turned slightly so that she could see both twins as well as Draco, hoping to avoid any outbreak of wandfire.

Before she'd managed to think of anything to say, Draco continued, "May I just point out, Granger, that you were about to have a private conversation in a public corridor?"

Fred and George jumped in, coming to what they probably thought was her rescue.

"And may I just point out, Malfoy–"

"–that we don't need twitchy little ferrets like you–"

"–butting into our business?"

The Slytherin sneered and opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione wouldn't– _couldn't_ watch her friends snipe at each other all day.

"He's right," she said quickly, addressing the twins. "We should go someplace where people can't accidentally walk in on us. C'mon."

Fred and George exchanged one of their cryptic looks as she turned to lead the way. She could practically hear their thoughts: _Did she just agree with Malfoy? __**In front of him? **__Has she gone __**mad**__?_ Well, that would be what Harry and Ron would think, anyway. It was hard to judge, with the twins. For all she knew, they were wondering when they'd be able to go back to the Great Hall and steal more food.

Before she was able to take even one step forward, she realized that her chosen path had an obstruction: Malfoy. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and for a long moment, she wasn't sure what to do.

Why was he here? Wasn't he the one who wanted to keep their… friendship– ugh, she hated that word. It was just so uncomplicated… it didn't fit, not at all. Whatever it was, he was the one who wanted it secret, but here he was, dragging it out perilously close to the light of day, where people could notice it…. Did he _want_ the twins to find out? Or was he there merely to torture her for avoiding him all day?

She deserved it, if he was. He'd apologized, and she'd just left him standing there without a definite answer– only that kiss, that kiss that still made her lips tingle, that kiss that he might consider to be nothing– and then she'd avoided him, would _still_ be avoiding him if he hadn't found her.

And suddenly she needed to say the words, to tell him that she forgave him– that she'd forgiven him long before he apologized, long before her mind began to dig up the reasons why she shouldn't have– but she knew she couldn't, not there or then.

But she still didn't know what to do, how to react to him in the presence of the twins.

Draco stepped aside, and she blinked, startled out of her frenzied thoughts. How long had it been? Two seconds? Less? Surely not enough time for the twins to suspect anything

She started moving swiftly, not wanting to linger in the hallway any longer. Draco fell into step beside her immediately, and she glanced at him alarmedly. "What are you doing?" she hissed, glancing over her shoulder at the twins, who seemed to be practically vibrating with tension.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he responded levelly.

She started to reply, but one of the twins decided to speak up.

"Hermione, why are we letting this git follow us?" Fred asked loudly.

"That's strange," Draco responded dryly, glancing over his shoulder nonchalantly. "I was under the impression I was _leading_ you, Weasley, being in front and all."

Both sets of the twins' ears started to turn red in anger, hands twitching as if they wanted to go for their wands. Hermione glared at the blond beside her, wondering how he could be so annoying and yet so amusing at the same time.

"It _looks_ like you're here simply to annoy the twins," _and me_, "which _isn't_ helpful."

Draco glanced at her, an inscrutable look on his face. Then he shrugged, returning his gaze to the space ahead of him. "Professor Snape said to get the information at all costs."

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. What the hell did _that_ mean?

"Hermione?" the twins asked– obviously demanding an answer– just as the four of them turned a corner, bringing their destination into view.

She glared at Draco, wishing she had one to give. "I'll tell you inside," she told them, glancing over her shoulder.

"Inside where?" they asked, eyebrows rising synchronously.

She stepped forward, holding the door open for them.

The three men stopped in their tracks.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "_Well_?" she prompted.

"That's a loo," the twins said simultaneously, looking at her as if she was insane.

"A _girl's_ loo," Draco added, eyebrows twitching upwards.

She almost pointed out the fact that they were agreeing on something, just to see what they'd do. "Oh, _well_ spotted," she said instead, with much sarcasm. "I would've never known. Now would you three get _in here!_"

The twins exchanged a look before one bowed to the other, holding one arm out towards the door. "After you, my good sir."

"Oh, no, no, after you!" replied the other.

"I couldn't possibly!" said the first.

"Nutters," Draco muttered, watching them 'squabble.'

Then they both turned to Malfoy, though whether they'd heard his mutter, Hermione couldn't tell. "After you; we insist."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I think not."

They recoiled in theatrical injury.

"You wound us, Malfoy!"

"Suspecting us of foul play?"

"How dreadful!"

"Shall we enter together, dear brother?"

"Yes, lets!"

And they linked arms, entering into the girls' toilet together. On the way past, George linked his arm through Hermione's as well, pulling her from the door, then proceeded to kick the door as it started to swing shut.

A muffled "ow!" was heard from the other side, causing the twins to smirk.

Scowling, Hermione pulled her arm loose from George's, punching them both on the shoulder. "That was awful! You shouldn't've done that!"

"You have yet to tell us _anything_, Hermione, let alone why we shouldn't hex _Draco _sodding_ Malfoy_ to kingdom come," George said, earning a nod of agreement from his brother.

"How about the fact that, for once, we're all on the same side?" Draco drawled, tucking his wand away as he entered the room. His eyes flickered from the large crack in the spotted mirror, to the chipped stone sinks, to one of the wooden stalls, whose door was hanging from its hinges. An expression of distaste crossed his face briefly before he suppressed it, leaning against the door nonchalantly, arms crossed.

The twins eyed the blond warily before looking at Hermione, as if seeking confirmation. She nodded slowly, glancing at Draco; she was still confused as to what to reveal and what not to. His expression was less than informative.

"Well, that settles it," Fred started, glancing at his brother.

"We've obviously stepped into an alternate dimension," George nodded.

"First, no Quidditch," Fred ticked off on his fingers, "now this. Next, you'll be telling us that Dumbledore is the Dark Lord and You-Know-Who is the good guy, right?"

Hermione rubbed the back of her neck, sighing. "Well, no. At least, I don't _think_ so. It's hard to tell…. But this isn't an alternate dimension."

They stared at her disbelievingly. Fred shook his head, as if to clear it, while George blinked hard, as if not believing what he was seeing. "Hermione, in case you didn't notice–"

"–that is Draco Malfoy–"

"–Slytherin scum–"

"–Death Eater-in-training–"

"–Muggle-born hater–"

"–and general pain-in-the-arse."

"Surely you haven't forgotten all those years that he spent, taunting you–"

"–insulting your friends–"

"–bullying just about anyone that it struck his fancy to bully–"

And they called _her_ wordy. "No," she interrupted loudly, forcing the twins to stop their tirade. "Ignoring the fact that not all of what you've said is true, I haven't forgotten _anything_." She paused, her eyes seeking out the grey ones that she was only just starting to get to know. "I haven't forgotten, and I'm not likely to, but I have forgiven."

* * *

A/N: Okay, so... in my last author's note I said that I was going to use four characters that I have trouble writing, but you might've noticed only three little-used characters in this chapter. (Fred, George, and Hagrid.) This is because I pushed the fourth character's appearance to chapter 9... if she appears at all. (Anyone who's been paying attention should be able to figure out what character I'm talking about.#) I'm not sure if having her show up would be worth the agony of trying to write her... x_x

Anyway, tell me what you thought of Fred and George and Hagrid. (And the rest of the chapter of course.)

Few more things: A) I've started co-writing a parody series with one of my readers/betas/friends called "The PlotBunny Made Us Do It" (by Evil Narrator Ladies, because we couldn't decide who's account to post it on.) You all should go read it and leave us lots of nice reviews.

B) When I was said I was tired of the previous chapter, I just meant I was tired of trying to prefect it. I actually really like the chapter itself. Thank you all for your concern though ^_^

C) I wanted to post a new one shot I've been working on yesterday (Halloween) but as usual, I missed my deadline because it's become longer than I intended. I still plan to post it as soon as it's done, even though it's technically a "Halloween fic" because it's awesome and I love it.

D) I'm currently recovering from a cold (which is part of why my Halloween fic missed the deadline) and it's kind of sapped some of my creative energies. Reviews might help recharge them though.........*hint hint*

As ever, thank you to all my wonderful reviews and my three (3) Betas. You all rock, and are saints for putting up with me and my excuses and my random update schedule with the minimum of death threats.

-Lild.

(# Moaning Myrtle)


	9. Planning and Problems

**Disclaimer:** Disclaimed. -.-

* * *

Chapter 9 (Planning and Problems)

* * *

A ringing silence greeted this pronouncement. It was so quiet that Hermione could easily hear the faint burbling from Moaning Myrtle's stall, several paces away. And then both Weasley twins burst into speech at the same time, and she redirected her gaze to look at their cherry red faces. They were talking so fast that it was difficult to determine if they were finishing each other's sentences or merely trying to talk over each other.

"Hermione, have you gone—"

"—_Death Eater_—"

"—Draco _Malfoy_—"

"—_hates_ you!—"

"—_tormented_ you and—"

"—been _imperiused_?—"

"ENOUGH!" she yelled, gritting her teeth as the shout reverberated around the small room. The redheads fell silent with ill-grace, staring at her warily. "I have not been imperiused, I have not gone mental, and I do not want to hear anything more on the subject, do you understand me? You are here because you had to come to the rescue like the brash idiots you are, and now you are going to sit there—sit!" she commanded, pointing at the seat-worthy counter tops that housed the many sinks — "shut up, and listen to me as I tell you what's going on."

"Woof," Fred muttered to his twin as they sat down. George grimaced. Draco smirked.

She narrowed her eyes at all three. "Basically, I altered the Daydream Charm." She quickly told them an abridged version of what happened to them when she and Draco broke the charm, followed by the strange occurrences there at Hogwarts, and the fact that both the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall had been severely affected.

When she finished, the twins had identical expressions of befuddlement. They exchanged a look before Fred shook his head. "That's impossible. Even with your alterations, our spell should only affect sentient creatures. Maybe if the portraits had been splashed like you two, they'd experience these changes, but on this scale? There's no way."

"But if the liquid inside the globe turned into vapor..." Draco began.

"Even if it did, Malfoy, I don't see how it could have spread throughout the entire castle enough to even give anyone the illusion of salty air, let alone make them forget about Quidditch," George said, frowning.  
_  
It figures that he'd somehow bring it back to the Quidditch thing_, she thought. Draco opened his mouth, looking scandalized, but Hermione quickly cut in, not wanting to discuss Quidditch—or the lack thereof—all day. "What if it got on the books?" she asked, surprised she hadn't thought of it before.

"Well, I suppose if the book was sentient—you weren't in the restricted section, were you?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, and that's not what I meant. If someone touched a book that was splashed—"

The redheads exchanged a look. "Only one problem with that theory, love," Fred said after a moment.

George nodded in agreement. "If Ron's forgotten Quidditch, then it can't be that. He wouldn't know a book if it bit him—believe us, one has."

Draco snorted loudly at that, which caused both the twins and Hermione to glare at him.

"What, they can insult him, but I can't laugh when they do?" he demanded, frowning at her and ignoring the twins.

Hermione made a defeated gesture, but the twins spoke up.

"He's our brother," they said.

"So only you get to insult him?" Draco asked snidely.

"Yes!"

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione stepped in. "Can we stay on the topic at hand, please? What if whoever touched a book that was splashed then infected whoever else they touched?"

The twins considered it for a moment. "The low dosage could explain why people are acting out the dream in reality, rather than fully entering it like the two of you did," Fred said.

Hermione frowned. "You still haven't told us what you enchant your Charms with."

The twins exchanged another long glance. "If what you told us is right, Hermione, it wouldn't matter if we did. There's nothing any of us can do about this—if it hasn't worn off by now, it's not going to until whatever story is being told, is over," George explained.

Hermione stared at him, mouth gaping open.

"What the hell are you blathering about? This isn't some story book—this is reality!" Draco protested.

"Reality is subjective, Malfoy. You see, reality, to you, is fancy dinner parties and getting whatever you want. To us, reality is you being a stuck-up git that everyone hates," Fred explained with false pleasantness.

"As much as I'd love to have a battle of wits with you, Weasley, I don't fight unarmed people." Draco sneered.

The twins jerked to their feet angrily, mouths open to retort.

Hermione quickly stepped in front of them. "Stop it! We need to come up with a plan and we can't do that if you three are fighting. The next person who insults someone is going to find themselves under the effects of a body-bind!"

The three males looked at the irate female in their midst and quickly backed off.

She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "We have to be able to do something to fix this. If this is a story, then it has to be centered around someone, right? So if we find out who or what is dreaming the tale, then we'll be able to figure out how to speed it up…."

The twins shook their heads. "I doubt anyone is actively dreaming this. They would have had to have been splashed directly—" George said, half-frowning.

"And if they had, they would've entered the same daydream as you two," Fred agreed.

"So, what, all of this is just random chaos?" Hermione asked, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "I refuse to believe that."

* * *

Half an hour, several conjuration spells, and a few slapped hands later, they had all the known facts up on a gigantic blackboard.

Draco rubbed his abused hand, eying it indignantly. "Honestly, Granger. You are such a control hog."

"Well, you shouldn't've tried to take the blue colored chalk. You were going to mess up my color system."

"I was not! You were using blue to note the changes we've been noticing, and I was going to add the Pelicanry!"

She blinked, eyes going from the light blue chalk in her hand to the light blue list of oddities. She opened her mouth to apologize, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks, when the twins decided to interrupt.

"Children, children—"

"—do cease this tiresome bickering—"

"—there are more important matters at hand!"

"Like, for example, what the hell is a Pelicanry?"

Hermione snorted, one hand going to her mouth reflexively to hide a grin. Draco shot her an inquiring look before answering.

"A Pelicanry—an abode or haunt of pelicans," Draco droned, as if reading it from a dictionary.

The twins shot him a disbelieving look before glancing at Hermione. "Is that even a real word?"

"Really, Weasley, must you have so little faith in me?" Draco asked, feigning hurt

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly. "But that's a good question—Fred, George, when you got my letter, was it delivered by an owl or a pelican?"

"An owl of course," Fred answered.

"Are you saying that owls have been turning into pelicans?" George asked.

Hermione nodded. "I sent my letter off by pelican. If you got it by owl, then obviously whatever this is, is limited to the immediate area." She frowned. "The question is, how far, or how long, did the owl travel before it changed back?"

The twins glanced at each other again. "We saw Hagrid down at Hogsmeade when we arrived," Fred offered.

George nodded. "He seemed normal in town, at least until he started talking about grog and hardtack...."

"But when we crossed through the wards, it suddenly got a lot warmer, and Hagrid acted as if that was normal."

Hermione frowned, rubbing her neck as she stared at the blackboard. She was almost certain she'd forgotten something. The other three continued talking, but it didn't sound like they were fighting, so she tuned it out. Her eyes lingered on the short list of people that they knew were unaffected, which consisted of everyone in that room, plus Professor Snape.

Her eyes drifted to the list of the worst affected. Dumbledore... McGonagall... the house-elves... "Oh!" she exclaimed again, snatching up the green chalk and adding another name to the unaffected list: Dobby.

When she looked up, she found everyone looking at her. "What?" she demanded.

Draco smirked and shook his head before glancing at the blackboard. He blinked. "Dobby? As in, the house-elf?"

"Yeah, I just remembered. He was acting completely normal last night when I was in the kitchens." She stopped, abruptly remembering that Dobby had been a Malfoy elf.

"Figures," he muttered to himself. Before Hermione could ask what he meant, he spoke again in a normal tone of voice. "So, the question here is, why are the six of us unaffected, where everyone else is?"

The twins exchanged a look. "It's likely that, because you received the full dosage, you two are immune," Fred said.

Hermione frowned. "Fred and George weren't here, obviously, but that doesn't mean they can't still be affected now that they are."

The twins frowned in response, but didn't refute it.

"So what about Professor Snape and Dobby, then?" Draco persisted.

Everyone looked at each other for a long moment before Hermione spoke again. "We need to ask them if they've been off the castle grounds for any period of time over the past few days," she decided. "We also need some way to determine which books, if any, were splashed by that liquid. Fred, George... is there anyway you could determine if this 'spread by touch' theory is actually plausible?"

"Well, we can run some tests back at the shop, but we'll need a complete list of every spell you used."

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. "Professor Snape has my notes.... Draco, could you...?" she trailed off, realizing that he was pulling a small stack of parchment out of his book bag.

He ruffled through it for a moment before handing half the stack to her and stuffing the other half back in his bag. A brief glance informed her that these were, indeed, her notes. She looked at Draco quizzically.

He shrugged, "I made copies."

There was a pause as she waited for him to say more, but eventually she gave up. She skimmed through her notes quickly to ensure it was all there before handing them over to the twins.

The twins skimmed through them quickly before nodding and shrinking them to fit more easily into their pockets.

She turned to the blackboard and shrunk it down, enchanting it so that the chalk couldn't accidentally rub off. Then she stuck it in her pocket, and turned to the door, releasing the locking spell.

"You lot get busy with those experiments," she said to the twins. "I'll go speak with Dobby, and then head to the library. I'm relatively certain that I've seen a spell that might show us which books were splashed."

"I guess I'll speak to Professor Snape, then," Draco said, moving to hold the door open for Hermione.

She smiled at him in thanks as she passed by, eager to get to the kitchens as quickly as possible and trusting the others to find their own destinations with equal speed.

* * *

They waited for Hermione to get out of sight before they grabbed him.

Draco grunted as his back was slammed into the wall by two pairs of hands, his arms forcefully pinned by his sides. Two freckled, scowling faces hovered inches away from his.

"Really, Weasley? Two against one? And here I thought honor was a Gryffindor trait," Draco spat out, struggling briefly to tear his arms out of their grip but quickly realizing that they weren't going to let him go.

"Shut up, Malfoy," one twin growled.

"We don't know what happened to make Hermione trust you—"

"—to make her _forgive_ you—"

"—but let us warn you, right now."

"Hermione is like a sister to us—"

Draco had to fight with himself not to make a smart-arse remark about the size of their ever-growing 'family.'

"—and if you _hurt_ her—"

"—if you so much as look at her funny—"

"—we—" the speaking twin gestured between himself and his brother.

"—will make—"

"—your life—"

"—a living—"

"—breathing—"

"—work of art."

"You know what we'll call it, Malfoy?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, not taking the prompt.

"No guess? Well, we were thinking something along the lines of—"

"—_Life in Hell_," they finished together, giving him another shove before stepping back.

"Although," one redhead started thoughtfully, glancing at the other, "I _do_ like the sound of Ferret-on-a-Stick."

"We'll save that for the sequel, should we decide to make one," the second agreed.

Draco scowled, making a show of brushing off any place on his robes that they had touched. "The way you two talk, one might think that you have no faith in Hermione's judgement," he said, enjoying their looks of horror when he used the girl's name.

"We trust Hermione," one redhead—Draco really did need to learn how to tell them apart—growled.

"We just don't trust _you_," the other said.

Draco shook his head in disbelief. "What is _with_ you Gryffindors?" he grumbled as he began to walk away, more to himself than to the twins. He wanted nothing more to do with this conversation.

Unfortunately, they had heard him. "What was that, Malfoy?" they asked accusingly.

He spun on his heel to face the redheads once more, suddenly angry. "You two—you claim that you trust Hermione, you say that she's like a sister to you—"

"We do!"

"She is!"

Draco sneered. "Really? Do you treat your 'other' sister like this, as well, then? If so, frankly I'm surprised she hasn't thumped you both in the face." He shook his head again at their bewildered looks. "It's not just you, either. Potter and Weasley—your little brother, that is—do it too. Hermione doesn't need your protection, and she certainly doesn't want your mollycoddling."

"Maybe not, but when she has little Death Nibblers like you fucking with her mind, can you blame us for being concerned?" one twin sneered back, taking a threatening step forward.

Draco stared at them blankly for a heartbeat before an amused smile appeared on his face. "Death _Nibbler_? Cute. Are you trying to imply, Weasley, that I have the Mark?" His hand went to his left shirt cuff, undoing the cuff-link and pushing the sleeve up to display the unblemished skin of his inner arm. "If so, then you are, obviously, mistaken."

"No, of course not," the same one answered, though he eyed the displayed arm doubtfully. "I doubt You-Know-Who wants anything to do with a little weed like you. But I bet you want it, don't you? Want to become just like _Daddy_."

Draco's expression grew cold and his wand was suddenly in his hand without a conscious thought about drawing it. The twins hastily drew their own wands, one looking more reserved about it than the other. The blond bit his tongue to prevent his first thought—a stupid demand for the freckled idiot to shut up about his father—from leaving his mouth. Instead, he bit out, "My _father_ has _nothing_ to do with this conversation, _Weasley. _His actions have no reflection upon mine."

The same redhead opened his mouth to retort, causing Draco to momentarily wonder why the other was being so quiet, but the blond interrupted him with a hand gesture, brow furrowing as he tried to pinpoint the location of the new sound he was hearing.

The low rumbling noise grew steadily louder with each passing moment, until finally they spotted its source. A lone house-elf, dressed in green and white, was running as fast as its short legs could carry it down the corridor, chased by a barrel that was easily four times its size. The barrel was steadily gaining on the little creature until finally—

"Erk!"

—it ran the house-elf over, leaving it sprawled on the floor, looking somewhat flattened. Three more house-elves came running up then, two (wearing red-and-white and blue-and-white) running past the squashed elf after the barrel, while the third (wearing yellow-and-white) stopped to help the one on the floor. Then the yellow- and green-wearing elves ran down the corridor, disappearing in the distance.

The three young men stared after the elves with varying expressions of bemusement. Draco recovered first, having become somewhat used to the oddities that continued to occur around the school.

"Look, Weasley. I think there are bigger things at stake here than old grudges." He paused to consider his next words carefully, knowing that any hesitation in his voice might ignite the other men's already-frayed temper. "My friendship with Hermione Granger is not important at the moment, nor, honestly, is it any of your concern."

With that, he turned again and walked off, leaving the twins speechless behind him.

* * *

"Can you believe that slimy little git?" George ranted as they walked towards the staircase that would take them up a floor. They had decided to take the secret tunnel to Honeydukes, since they would need a staff member to unlock the gates to leave by the front entrance. "After the way he's spoken about our family all this time, he expects us to just forget all about it? And when the hell did he start calling Hermione by her first name? 'My friendship with Hermione Granger,' my arse!"

"George," Fred started, frowning, "as much as I hate to admit it, the ferret sort of had a point. We can't protect Hermione from everything…."

George came to an abrupt halt, staring at his brother. He didn't start yelling, though, as he might have done with anyone else. Instead, he simply waited for an explanation of what his twin was thinking.

Fred scratched the back of his head, grimacing. "She's a smart girl, mate. You remember how she cursed Neville in their first year? I doubt we even know all of what she's done. My point is, it must have taken a whole hell of a lot to get her to trust _Malfoy_, of all people. And even if he is somehow playing her for a fool, I doubt there's anything we could do to prevent it, you know?"

George scowled, but started walking again. "I see what you're saying. If she's set on trusting that git, then she'll trust him until _he_ gives her a reason not to. But we can't just do nothing… what if he attacks her or something?"

"We had this discussion when Ginny started dating. We can't keep them in safe little bubbles, no matter how much we want to. We just have to trust that they can take care of themselves, as we know they are more than capable of doing."

George scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm just afraid that Ginny, or Hermione—either of them, really—will get in over their heads."

Fred, of course, understood the feeling perfectly. "And if they do, we'll be there to help pick up the pieces."

"If there are any pieces to pick up," George said grimly.

There was nothing to say to that. They walked on in silence, nearing the statue of the humpbacked witch. They were about to speak the password when a familiar voice stopped them cold—

"Ah, crewmen Gred and Forge. I've been looking all over for you… why are you out of uniform?"

The twins turned to face the Headmaster, somewhat at a loss. "Er…. We… were… umm."

"We were about to go get our uniforms back from… er…."

"…the cleaners?"

The twins exchanged a look, silently berating each other for their pitiful lie.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "No matter. Come with me."

Sending the statue, and their escape route, a longing glance, they obediently trailed after the Headmaster, wondering what he had in store for them.

* * *

_A/N_: So.. I know last chapter I said I was going to throw Moaning Myrtle in there... but I changed my mind. Sorry, if anyone actually cares.

I had some writers' block with this chapter. As usual. I don't think it's completely gone yet, either, seeing as my attempts to begin the next chapter have been, so far, unsuccessful. -Sigh-

I continue to appreciate any and all reviews that you send to me, and I'd like to thank my betas for their cheerleading and grammar checking. You all (reviewers, readers, and betas) rule, for serious.


	10. Confusing Complications

**Disclaimer:** Pay no attention to that girl behind the curtain. She owns nothing anyway.

* * *

Chapter 10 (_Confusing Complications_)

* * *

Hermione stood staring the floor of the library, trying to remember exactly where she and Draco had been standing when they'd dropped the globe. She remembered being at her usual table, and Draco had come up from behind her… but…. She sighed, dropping into the chair she'd been using that day and closing her eyes, trying to picture the scene. She'd been sitting there, staring at her books, trying to figure out if she'd finished her modifications, and then Draco had come along, being a git as always—she frowned slightly at the memory—and she'd twisted in her seat to the le… no, the right….

She did so now, reopening her eyes. Then she blinked twice, surprised to have Draco standing there once more, though not as close as in her memory.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "What are you doing?"

Suddenly she was embarrassed, but she couldn't actually pinpoint why. "I'm just trying to remember where we broke the charm," she mumbled.

"And you have to reenact it to remember?" he asked, one corner of his mouth curling up.

"Well, I—yes," she finished with a defiant air, daring him to mock her.

He wasn't one to pass up a dare, obviously. "And here I thought you had a photographic memory, the way you always seem to have a textbook-perfect answer," he replied with a slight smirk, taking a step towards her.

"I'm good at memorizing things, but I don't always have '_textbook-perfect answers,_' thank you very much," she said, watching him continue to draw closer until he was within arm's reach of the table. "What are _you _doing?" she asked, parroting his earlier question.

"Hmm," he said he said, stepping slightly to the right and eying the distance between him and the table. He got a bit closer to the table—and to her, one portion of her brain insisted on reminding her—before he responded. "Helping you remember, of course. Stand up."

She hesitated for a split second before complying. There was easily a foot of distance between them, but suddenly that didn't seem like very much.

"Good… now lunge at me, go on." When she stared at him in disbelief, he added, "You were the one that wanted a reenactment."

She frowned, but nodded. She did remember making a grab for the globe, after all, so she made the lunge. He stepped back two precise steps, and she instinctively followed him.

"I don't remember moving around this much," she commented, eying the way he was now holding his empty hand above her reach, as he had done when he had the globe.

He shrugged, "I think your attention was focused more on getting the charm back than on your movements." After a moment, he realized that she wasn't going to continue the reenactment any further. "It broke about there," he commented, motioning towards a section of floor to his right.

Hermione glanced where he indicated, frowning when she noted the proximity of a large bookcase. She started to step closer to examine the books, but a light touch stopped her. Long, pale fingers curled slightly as they rested on her shoulder. Almost hesitantly, she allowed her gaze to follow the arm back to Draco's face. She wet her lips, suddenly nervous when she met the blond's thoughtful gaze.

"Did you mean what you said, before?" he asked softly.

"I—" she briefly considered acting as if she didn't know what he was talking about, but she knew he wouldn't buy it anyway. _Had_ she meant it? It was difficult to think with him so close. Had she really forgiven him for _everything_? Five years of insults and pranks and mean spirited jokes? For trying to get her and her friends expelled, et cetera, et cetera? All of it seemed so long ago now. They'd all grown up—they'd had to. "Yes."

Her breath caught in her throat as he shifted his weight, bringing their bodies closer together—not quite touching, but only just. For a split second, she thought he was actually going to kiss her. But then he flashed a smile that would have given Lockhart a run for his money and said, "Well, what are we standing around for? Don't you have something to do?"

She started slightly when he stepped away towards the spot where the globe had shattered. She could still feel the warmth where he had rested his hand on her shoulder.

Mentally shaking herself, she went over to where Draco stood, motioning for him to stand back. He did so with eyebrows raised, and she took out her wand, concentrating on the spell that she'd just researched. It was somewhat complicated, but she was reasonably sure that she would be able to do it.

She closed her eyes, visualizing the text of the book, giving her the instructions she needed, and began.

* * *

He stepped back when she waved him away, wondering what she was going to cast and trying not to think about what had happened only a few seconds ago. He couldn't explain it, nor, to be completely honest, did he want to. The question had been nagging him since his little 'chat' with the twins, but he hadn't truly intended to ask it.

Her answer had surprised him, though he didn't doubt the truth of it—he'd become adept at spotting lies, thanks to his godfather. He just didn't think he'd be so forgiving, in her place.

The quality of light changed, attracting Draco's attention back to Hermione's spellwork. Silver light spilled out from her wand, making the nearby magical lamps seem dimmer by comparison—or had they really dimmed? It was hard to tell. He could see her eyes flickering back and forth beneath her closed lids as if she were reading something out of a book. He didn't know what spell she was casting, but he could tell from the wand movements and the long, almost chant-like incantation that it was complicated. He couldn't hear the words she was saying since she was whispering them.

The light began to gather into a glowing sphere after several seconds, and Hermione's chant became faster and a little louder, such that he could pick up some of the words.

"_Revelio verum, ostendis semita,__** liberum!**_"

Hermione staggered back after speaking the final word, and Draco caught her reflexively with an arm around her shoulders, watching the globe pulsate once brightly and break into at least a dozen smaller firefly-like things.

The lights bobbed in midair before beginning to zip around the area. A few of them—it was difficult to get an accurate count—went straight for Hermione and Draco, circling around their heads almost playfully. The girl's eyes were still closed, but there was a slight smile on her face.

_Can a ball of light be playful?_ His eyes were beginning to hurt from trying to keep track of them all. He glanced nervously towards the front desk, wondering what Pince would do if she caught them.

Hermione stirred slightly. "Only we can see them, don't worry," she murmured, sounding exhausted. She hid a huge yawn behind her hand, blinking tiredly. "That spell was more draining than I expected."

He bit his tongue against the impulse to say something sarcastic, guiding her instead to a nearby chair. Two of the miniature stars followed them, while the others darted off, disappearing in various directions amongst the bookshelves. He frowned, watching the one that was darting around the girl's head.

"What spell _is_ this?"

"It's a spell the Aurors use to search for the residues of certain charm spells, so I modified it to look for ours." She smiled slightly, holding out her hand palm up. For a moment, he was confused, but then the light that had been circling her landed on it. "Hold out your hand," she told him, never taking her eyes off the firefly-thing that was bobbing in a slow circle in her palm.

He did so with eyebrows raised. A second firefly landed on his hand, causing a slight tingle as it circled. He glanced over at Hermione's just as it reached the center of her hand and it flashed bright silver. The action was soon repeated by his own firefly.

The girl frowned, bringing her hand (and thus the light) up to her lips and blowing. The phantom light was thrown through the air, did a spiral to regain height, then bobbed away. "Apparently there are still traces of the charm in our systems," she said, still frowning.

His own bug flashed again, and he blinked away stars, flicking it away with his free hand. It disappeared as well. "So, what does that mean?"

"I'm not sure." She stood up abruptly, wobbling slightly where she stood. He reached out automatically to steady her, but she waved him away. "I'm fine."

He frowned, watching her walk unsteadily back to where she'd cast the spell. "Did it ever occur to you to ask for _help_?" A second after he said them, he wanted to stuff the words back into his mouth. What was _with_ him today? He was spending too much time in the company of Gryffindors, speaking before he thought like this. The worry in his voice had been as obvious as a penguin in a tutu to his own ears, and he had little hope that it had escaped her notice.

She turned to look at him, but he couldn't see her expression because the fireflies had reappeared from the shelves and were now circling her head. "In case you didn't notice, I _did_. I went to Professor Dumbledore—"

"I meant with _this_," he said, gesturing at the phantom lights that were still bobbing in circles around her. "This spell is obviously not meant to be cast by a single person, am I right?"

"The book said that it was usually cast by two or more people, but that it could be cast by one," she admitted.

"But you still didn't think—"

"No, I didn't, alright? Harry and Ron always rely on me to do everything, so I—"

"Well, I'm not Potter or Weasley," he sneered, finding new reason to hate the dunderheaded duo.

Her reply was quiet. "Obviously."

It was suddenly very quiet. Draco was at a loss for how to respond. He wasn't even sure if she had meant it as a good thing or a bad.

Hermione sighed, and the lights weaving around her changed their course to circle him as well, forming a figure eight around them. "If you want to help, then come here," she said, holding out her hand.

Surprised, he stepped closer, and she took his hand.

"They've been searching for the residue, but we need to give them another command for them to actually show us where it is. It's easier than the original incantation, but still requires a bit of power."

"So what's the command?" he asked, still surprised that she was actually letting him help.

"Ostendumis."

He nodded, memorizing the way she'd said it. She smiled slightly, then shut her eyes, beginning to silently mouth words. The phantom lights were still dancing around them in a figure eight, with an extra loop around their joined hands.

Hermione raised her wand and began to trace her own figure eight into the air, and soon the fireflies were flying where her wand traced instead of around them. They circled in such a tight formation that they became a single blur of light rather than individual spheres.

The brunette opened her eyes and smiled, then squeezed his hand. He took this as his signal instinctively, and together they said,

"_Ostendumis_."

His skin tingled when he spoke the word, not unlike what had happened when the phantom light had landed on his hand. He'd never thought of magic having a physical presence before, but he could feel_ something_ going from his hand into Hermione's.

One of the phantom lights abruptly stopped, leaving a brief trail of fire hanging in the air before the other lights joined the first, creating a single, larger firefly-thing.

It pulsed once, slower and dimmer than the miniatures had managed, but somehow more powerful.

The girl released his hand, stepping closer to the bookcase and examining the titles. Abruptly he realized that there were several transparent, silver books on the shelves, some overlayed on real books, some not.

"There are three books missing that were hit by the spell," Hermione said, "and n... ten total, it looks like. We'll have to see who has the missing books, and who's checked out the others in the past few days."

"I think we have a bigger problem than books," Draco commented, glancing at the floor.

"What do you—" Hermione started, glancing up from the bookcase. She spotted what he saw. "—oh."

There was a large, phantom puddle on the floor, and beyond that were a few different trails of silver footprints, most heading towards the door.

They exchanged a look.

"Should we follow them?"

Hermione nodded grimly, and the light began to follow the path of the footprints. He followed after it quickly.

As he passed the front desk, he saw Madam Pince looking at him suspiciously, making him wonder what she'd heard. But he knew from experience that she wasn't the type to tell tales—even amongst the teachers—as long as her books were respected.

The orb paused outside the library, and that was when he realized Hermione wasn't behind him. She came hurrying up a few moments later, explaining that she had copied down the names of the books the spell had marked.

The trail split not far from the library.

"This is the way to the shortcut to the hospital wing," Hermione said, pointing. "That's probably from when they found us. This other one could go anywhere."

Draco nodded agreement, and they followed the other one.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Hermione said, frowning. "What did Professor Snape say?"

"Something sarcastic, of course. But other than that, yes, he's been out of the castle a few times over the past few days. Including Friday evening, around the time of the... accident."

The girl nodded, "That must be why he's not as strongly affected as the others—not as much exposure."

"Probably," Draco agreed. "What about Dobby?"

She frowned again. "I couldn't actually find him. He wasn't in the kitchens, and the other house-elves... weren't, um, exactly helpful."

The blond's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well, that seems rather strange. House-elves usually just appear as soon as they're wanted, especially if they like you. Of course, Hogwarts elves have always been a bit strange in that they're bound to the castle itself rather than a single bloodline."

Her ears almost literally perked up at this. "Really? I thought they were bound to the Headmaster."

"Well, they sort of are, because the Headmaster is the representative of the castle—it can't really speak for itself, can it?—but because the Headmaster changes from time to time, and usually is a member of a different family, they can't be bound to the individual bloodline," Draco shook his head. "It doesn't really change that much. The Headmaster's word is still law to them, but differences in behavior have been noted."

She was watching him intently now. "Like what?"

He ran a hand through his hair, annoyed that he couldn't actually answer her question. "I don't know. I've just been told that they're different."

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed.

They walked in silence for a ways, still following the footprints as they traveled through some of the lesser-used corridors, leading towards the Great Hall. Occasionally other footprints would join from other corridors or split off, which made Draco uneasy.

They turned a corner and stopped dead in their tracks, eyes widening in shock. They'd reached the Entrance Hall. There was no longer a trail of footsteps to follow. In fact, it was hard to pick out the individual tracks—it seemed as though the entire floor was glowing silver.

The bell rang then, signaling the end of the lunch hour. Hundreds of students poured out of the Great Hall, splitting into groups and heading towards their respective classes, their trainers picking up some of the glow and spreading it around even further as they walked.

Things had just become a lot more complicated.

* * *

_A/N:_–a white flag appears from behind a curtain and waves pathetically– Please don't kill me. –peeks out, then dodges back just in time to dodge a tomato–

I know it's been awhile. I'm sorry! Other than a little Christmas fic that just popped into my head a couple weeks ago (if you haven't read it yet, you should,) it's been constant writer's block for me. It really sucked.

Anyway, I have a really good idea where I'm taking this, but some of the little (and not-so-little) details like those that appear in this chapter are really hard to write, because I worry about setting everything up just the right way so that it all makes sense in the end.

I worry about that a lot actually, having things make sense. If you're ever confused, feel free to ask questions in reviews or PM's or whatever, and I'll answer them as best I can (quality of answers may vary depending on how closely the question relates to the plot. I wouldn't want to spoil anything).

Anyways, please review. Reviews make the author happy, and a happy author writes faster :)

-Lild


	11. Ominous Outlooks

**Disclaimer**: (Insert Funny Disclaimer Here.)

* * *

Chapter 11 (_Ominous Outlooks_)

* * *

Draco let out a long string of curse words that, had she not been so inclined to agree, would have earned him a harsh reprimand from Hermione. As it was, she was too drained and too shocked to even think properly.

"This … this shouldn't be possible," she said, putting one hand against the wall for support. Why did her legs feel so unsteady? She brushed a hand over her eyes, one corner of her mind noting that her skin was glowing. Her brows furrowed as she tried to concentrate on the glowing Entrance Hall. "There shouldn't be enough of the charm to spread this far. I don't understand."

The orb of light that her spell had created bobbed in front of her, and she realized that there was no point in continuing the spell. She extended her hand for the light to land on, then closed her fingers, extinguishing it. The incessant glow that indicated the spell residue faded with it, leaving her strangely disoriented.

She felt as though she'd just run a marathon. _Perhaps Draco is right … I should be more careful about the spells I cast._

The blond was looking at his own hand as if he'd never seen it before. "Were we glowing?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, too tired to remind him that the miniature lights had detected traces of the charm in their bodies.

"Then why weren't they?" he questioned, gesturing to the still-seething mass of students trying to get to their next class.

"… What?"

"Their clothing was covered in the stuff, sure, but their skin looked normal," Draco said.

Her head chose that moment to begin throbbing, and she winced, putting a hand to her temple. Her fingers were cold and tingly.

"—Hermione?"

She blinked, trying to focus on what Draco was saying, sure that it was important. All she _really_ wanted to do, however, was to stare at his eyes. Why hadn't she noticed they were so pretty before? Or had she? She couldn't remember.

"Bugger," he muttered, and she wanted to giggle at his use of a naughty word. "Hermione, look at me, can you walk?"

"Course I can," she said, giving him a don't-be-stupid glare. He looked amused, so she wasn't entirely sure she'd succeeded. She took a few steps to prove her point, wobbling only slightly.

"Alright then," he said, watching her carefully. "C'mon."

She frowned, balking. "Where are we going?"

"To the Hospital Wing," he said, taking her arm and leading her up the now-deserted stairs.

"What? Why? We need to … to figure this out," she protested uncertainly.

He looked at her as if he expected her to bite him or something, which made her giggle. The look intensified. "We were going to ask Madame Pomfrey about how the spell might be affecting people, remember?"

"Oh," she said, not remembering that at all but taking his word for it. The world went oddly hazy as they ascended the marble staircases—which seemed to be immobile just for them—and she blinked, trying to chase away the fog. She stared at Draco, because everything else was spinning. She smiled slightly.

The boy glanced at her every so often, worry in his pretty grey eyes. Finally, he spoke, "What are you smiling at?"

She blinked again, trying to form a coherent thought. "You were cute as a ferret." She didn't notice it when he stiffened. "Cuter as you, though."

Her whole body shivered then, and she missed his shocked expression. Why was it so cold? Her last memory was of Madame Pomfrey's concerned face and Draco saying something about "magical exhaustion."

* * *

Mid-afternoon sunlight played over the castle, making windows glitter and cannons gleam—

"Since when," an incredulous redhead demanded, "does Hogwarts have _cannons_?"

"I'm guessing since Monday," Fred answered, somewhat amused. "I could be wrong, though."

"Oi, none o' that talkin' an' jabberin', now! Get to work!" The man that they had known as Mr. Filch, though he had been introduced as Mr. Pilfer, shoved them forward, mumbling to himself about 'disgrace' and 'out of uniform' and 'keel-hauling.' The monkey on his shoulder—Mrs. Norris' replacement—bared its teeth at them. "Those there cannons ain't goin' to clean themselves yeh know!"

The twins glanced at each other, silently debating whether they should use magic.

"Commodore Beesting wants those cannons in _prime working condition_ for the upcoming battle, ye hear me? I'll have none of yer shirking today! No sir," Pilfer continued, a malicious glint in his eyes.

The twins' attention snapped back to the disagreeable man. "Battle? What battle?"

"Ye'll be findin' out soon 'nough, I think," Pilfer leered at them, putting one hand up for the monkey to grab onto. The monkey swung down to the ground, then hopped up onto the nearest cannon, beady eyes never leaving the twins. "Now, yer orders are to get those cannons clean an' ready, that's all yeh need to know. An' once yeh get that done, yeh'll need to bring up the rounds."

Exchanging a worried look, the twins drew their wands—only to have them snatched away by Pilfer.

"_By hand_," he added, before shuffling off.

Groaning, they set to work, using the cleaning tools that had been left for them.

A few minutes later, Fred looked at his brother. "George, why didn't we just stun him and leave?"

"Why couldn't you have suggested that while we still had our wands?" he responded, scowling.

Fred frowned, "Didn't even think of it."

"Brilliant."

* * *

_Useless, useless, __**useless**__!_ Draco thought, shoving a book back into the shelf rather harshly. Whether he was cursing the book or himself, he wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure why he had gone back to the library, other than the fact that it was relatively nearby when he had been kicked out of the Hospital Wing.

He ran a hand through his hair, probably ruffling it horrendously, but he couldn't find it within him to care. _There must be a logical explanation to all of this._

Glancing around the quiet, overly warm room, he shook his head, walking out. He always thought better when he moved, anyway. "So what do we know?" he asked himself, frowning. "This situation is bloody hopeless, that's what we know," he grumbled impatiently. "The entire school's gone mental, things are appearing and disappearing and _changing_, the whole ruddy castle is covered in the—whatever it was, residue." He paused there, remembering what Hermione had said

_There shouldn't be enough of the charm to spread this far._

Yet it obviously had, unless she'd done the spell wrong. So, how …? "Maybe it got mixed with something else," he mused aloud. From the corner of his eye, he saw a portrait watching him warily, and he abruptly realized he was talking to himself. Annoyed, he turned to it. "You," he enunciated slowly, "are wearing a _pirate's hat_. A pirate's hat with a _feather_. You do not get to judge me for thinking aloud."

_All the same_, he decided, leaving the mortified and confused portrait behind, _I'd best keep my thoughts internal._

So what if it had gotten mixed with something? If it had been diluted enough, it could probably account for the amount they'd seen in the Entrance hall … that area certainly got enough traffic to kick it around. And the charm Hermione had used had given no real indication of how much residue was in a given area.

_Alright, one question answered. Nine hundred and ninety-nine to go. _"Take one down, pass it around …" he muttered to himself sarcastically.

The frown returned to his face as he descended the marble staircase. The students themselves hadn't been glowing, however. Just their clothes.

_So what the hell does __**that**__ mean? Is it not the Daydream Charm that's causing all of this?_

The blond shook his head. It was too much of a coincidence not to be connected to the charm, they'd already decided that. But if there was no residue in any of the students, then what—

_Residue_. The word suddenly made him stop in his tracks, both physically and mentally.

The word residue implied something that was no longer active, that had lost some of its magical qualities. Obviously the _residue_ of the charm couldn't be causing _anything_, especially since they had it in their own systems still. But what if it _had_ mixed with something else?

His godfather dealt with magical reactions everyday in potions brewing. They were often unpredictable and dangerous, but to some extent all magic was that way. If the Daydream Charm had found a compatible piece of magic in the school's wards while it was still active and latched onto it, some completely new spell could have been created. Then, Hermione's charm _wouldn't_ have picked it up, since not only was it slightly different than the original, but it was also an _active_ spell.

If it really had gotten into the wards of the school … he cursed. That would explain everything. The wards were omnipresent throughout the entire castle and the grounds, and the changes didn't reach past the boundaries of the school. If they could get Dumbledore to lower the wards ...

No, Dumbledore wouldn't listen to them. There was no way they could convince him to do it, and no guarantee that it would even work.

If only there was a way to get the man's head to clear … maybe if they got him outside of the wards?

"Oh, yes, let's just go kidnap the Headmaster of Hogwarts for a day," he grumbled, running a frustrated hand through his hair again.

He doubted even Professor Snape would be able to convince 'Beesting' to leave the castle at this point, but anything was worth a try. Sighing, he changed course to go and find his godfather.

* * *

Draco leaned against the wall, waiting impatiently for his godfather's current class to end. Finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day and releasing the masses. The young Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws fought each other to get out of the potions classroom, eager to get out of Professor Snape's domain. Shaking his head, Draco waited a few extra minutes for them to clear out before stepping into the classroom.

Severus glanced up from examining a vial, raising an eyebrow at the younger man. "Back again … and without Miss Granger, I see."

Draco ignored the implied question. "Sir, I was hoping I could speak to you for a few minutes?"

"Of course," he replied, gesturing for the blond to precede him into his office.

Draco sat in the notoriously uncomfortable chair, hoping that this conversation wouldn't take a long time.

His godfather followed a moment later, slipping out of the heavy teacher's robe that he hated so much. After hanging it on the wall, he turned and gave Draco an expectant look.

"Sir, I think I've figured out what's going on," he said, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"Indeed?" the older man prompted, looking intrigued. Draco explained his theory quickly, watching the professor's impassive face. "I see," he said, once Draco had finished. "Mr. Malfoy, are you aware of how long the wards on this castle have been in place?"

Draco frowned slightly, recognizing his godfather's 'teaching voice.' "Hundreds of years?" he guessed uneasily.

"If not thousands," Snape agreed dryly. "Magical accidents occur multiple times a day. These walls have seen hundreds of thousands of spoiled potions, misspoken charms, and every form of abuse known to the teenaged mind. If the protections of this school were as easily tampered with as you suggest, do you not think something like this would have happened before?"

"There's a first time for everything, sir," he replied, leaning back in his chair. His godfather snorted at his godson's obstinance. "If you have a better theory…" he added, not quite making it a challenge.

"I," the older man replied, eyes glittering dangerously, "have _many_ theories." He sighed, "Unfortunately, none that are any more likely than yours."

There was a brief pause before Draco decided to ask, "Is there any way that you could convince Professor Dumbledore to get out of the castle?"

The professor just shook his head. "Doubtful. The man has never listened to me before; I see no reason for him to begin now."

"The students, then? Can we get them out?" he persisted.

His godfather frowned thoughtfully. "Getting the students out without the Headmaster's permission would prove difficult, but perhaps not impossible," he admitted. "However, Hogwarts is seen as a bastion of safety in what is currently an unsafe world, Draco. Evacuation would cause panic, if not among the students, then among the parents. For the moment, the school remains the safest place to be; should that change, then we shall reconsider our options."

"So what are we going to do, then?" Draco asked, frustrated.

"You," Severus replied, "are going to continue researching. If you find anything new, bring it to me immediately. I will … _attempt_ … to reason with the Headmaster. We will get this figured out, Draco, don't worry. In the meantime, try not to do anything foolish."

* * *

Commodore Albus Beesting stood in front of his south-facing window, watching the fading light play about the sails of the _Bloody Phoenix_

.

He was uneasy. He'd learned long ago to listen to his gut, and it was speaking to him now—and not about the hard-tack, either.

There was something wrong in the world, and that meant Snakeface was behind it.

Albus' half-brother had a knack for causing trouble, to say the least. Tom was a cunning liar, incorporating just enough truth in his stories as to be convincing. Beyond that, he was a black-hearted pirate, stealing from anyone who crossed his path, abiding by no rule or custom that didn't suit his tastes.

Beesting had his nephew's best interests at heart in keeping the boy from his biological father. The commodore knew that as soon as Tom got his hands on Gryffin, he'd lead the boy astray with clever half-truths and pretty lies.

And now Snakeface was planning something. Beesting could sense it in the air as easily as he could recall his own name.

It was up to him to stop that plan—at all costs.

It was time to call for a meeting of the Council.

* * *

Dobby's ears twitched, causing him to glance up in confusion. He thought that someone had called him, but usually a Summons left no doubt. Senses on the alert, he quickly finished cleaning the Gryffindor common room. The second time it happened, it was stronger, though still strange to him. Concentrating, he quickly transported to the location the call was coming from.

The room he arrived in practically thrummed with ancient magic and life, sending a shiver over Dobby's skin. His large green eyes were especially wide as he looked at the massive stone column that dominated the dark room. He had never seen anything like it before. His fingers twitched, longing to touch it, to trace the runes that were embedded into the stone, to feel the magic that lived within—but he restrained himself; nothing good ever came of touching what did not belong to him.

He was not supposed to be in this room; he was not supposed to even know about it. If the other house-elves knew he was here, they would … he did not know what they would do. The Hogwarts elves were unlike his own family, and he was still learning their ways. At home, if his siblings or mother caught him in a place he did not belong, they would take him to the matriarch—his grandmother—for punishment. It had been the same with all other house-elves he had met.

The Hogwarts elves, however, were undeniably different. They were not bound to the Headmaster as he had been bound to the Malfoy line. In some ways, they reminded him of Master Malfoy and the other humans the man had often associated with. Aloof and prideful, they usually ignored Dobby completely, often speaking in their own language—which he had never heard before and did not know a word of—as if he was not there.

Over the time he had spent among them, he had picked up a few words here and there, just as he had become more attuned to the magic of the castle itself. He had felt the rising magic, he had heard the whispers of the other elves. They had used many words he had not understood, but he realized that their odd behavior now was in some way connected to what he felt in this room.

Time passed. What he was waiting for, he did not know, but he did know that he, that someone, had to be here. Something called to him to be present at this time. He was unsure of his worthiness yet honored that he had been chosen.

The pillar of stone radiated magic like the sun radiated light. It made Dobby uneasy to be so close, and yet he basked in it, realizing that he would likely never be in this room again. The magic became brighter, more intense. Dobby's skin felt too tight and he looked away from the column, though it did no good. Magic swirled around him and over him, knocking him back. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and abruptly he was no longer uneasy; he was afraid.

After a moment, the magic settled, though it still shone brighter than before. Dobby looked up, but the relief he felt froze into a cold lump in his throat.

Someone was in the room with him.

He screamed.

* * *

_A/N_: Oh goodness... look! It's an update! And in such a time frame that I don't feel the need to hide! (-dodges tomato- Hey! Watch it!)

Anyway, I completely forgot last chapter, but I meant to show you all the wonderful fanart by Ellarose C: http: // i139. photobucket. com / albums / q282 / IamInTheWrongCentury / dramioneaarghcopy. jpg (Remember to remove the spaces.)

As always, if you review I will love you forever. ... In a non-creepy way. Really. I especially want to know what you thought about Dobby's scene. I tried to make him sound different from everyone else, since, you know, he's not human.

Until next time,

-Lild


	12. Trouble

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I did not magically acquire the rights to Harry Potter in the last eight months.

**A/N:** Hey everyone. I know this might be hard to believe but … I'm not dead. I know, right? Wow. I know it's been about eight months since my last update. I have a few reasons for that, but I'll tell you about that at the bottom of the page, as usual. I figured a lot of you will have forgotten the story thus far, so I'll give you a "quick" summary to refresh your memories:

_After sharing the strange experience of being trapped in a Daydream Charm together, Hermione and Draco attempt to return to their usual day-to-day existences. While neither is willing to give up their new understanding of each other, they also don't want anyone to know about it yet. However, this already complicated situation is made even more complicated when they discover that they aren't quite as done with the Daydream Charm as they had hoped. _

_Now, with bizarre changes running rampant throughout the castle, and everyone acting very strangely indeed, it is up to them, with the help of Professor Snape and Dobby—who seem mostly unaffected, for the moment—to figure out what exactly is happening. An inquiry to the Weasley twins leads the boisterous duo to join our heroes, though Hermione tries to send them away again as quickly as she can, for fear that they will fall victim next. Hermione theorizes that someone must be at the center of the charm, that someone must be actively dreaming these changes, but the twins deny this possibility, saying that anyone who had been touched by the charm would have fallen into the same fantasy as Hermione and Draco had._

_The twins safely out of the castle (or so Hermione mistakenly thinks), she casts a spell to try and determine what happened after she and Draco were knocked out by the charm. What she finds alarms and confuses her: it seems as though the residue of the charm has been spread through the entire castle. Before she can begin to process this, however, the advanced magic she used takes its toll, knocking her for a loop. Draco takes her to the hospital wing to recover, and while she's unconscious, he has a brainwave. He believes he's found the answer: something in the charm found a compatible piece of magic in the wards of Hogwarts, and now, like an infection, its spread over the entire school._

_Meanwhile, an ancient enchantment has been stirring in the depths of the castle that only the house-elves are aware of. Though by the time it finally came to fruition, only one house-elf was in a position to do anything about it … and Dobby has no idea what it is, either._

_With Commodore Beesting preparing for a battle that Hermione and Draco know nothing about, Draco's father arriving in two days, and everyone becoming more and more Strange, time is beginning to run out._

_

* * *

_Chapter 12 (_Trouble_)

* * *

Dobby broke off his cry of shock immediately, gazing at the figure before him with wide eyes.

She gazed back for a long moment, mild curiosity on her face. Finally she turned away, looking now at the pillar that dominated the room. Dobby's eyes widened further as she pressed her palms onto the stone. Her face tilted upwards as though she was basking in the light of a private sun, but her expression soon turned to confusion.

She retracted her hands quickly, looking down at them as if she had no idea what to do next.

Dobby's instincts to help those in need kicked in, and he timidly asked, "Does Miss need help?"

She tilted her head to look at him. "Help?" she repeated slowly, as though she had never heard the word before and was testing the feel of it on her tongue.

Not knowing what else to do, Dobby nodded. "Can Dobby do anything for yous?"

After a brief hesitation, she nodded.

* * *

"_Hey, you. Yes, you! Come here!"_

_Draco looks around in confusion. He's in Dumbledore's office, but no one else is there._

"_Over here, kid—nice jimjams—" _

_It suddenly occurs to him that it's the __**fish**__ talking, though it's difficult to tell since its mouth isn't moving._

_An evil cackle makes him jump and whirl to see his Aunt Bellatrix standing before him. Her face is a lurid green, and she has a crooked, pointed hat on her head. He's looking up at her even though she's bent at the waist, shoving on a long wooden object. He glances down to discover he's in a baking pan, and she's shoving him into an oven._

_She cackles again. "Be a good boy now and take your medicine," she says, shoving him deeper into the oven._

"_**Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me,**_

"_**We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot,**_

"_**Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!"**__ Dumbledore sings, while wearing purple and orange stripped socks._

_The fish swims into view behind Bellatrix's head. "Kid, listen—"_

_Hermione appears, dancing with Dobby. She glances at him and smiles. "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen, Draco."_

"—_Time's running out kid, something's coming—"_

"_Turn over, you're baking unevenly!" Bellatrix commands._

"Ahh!" Arms flailing wildly, he fell to the ground with a _thud._

Draco groaned from his new-found position on the floor, spitting out carpet fibers. He sat up, wincing and rubbing his head. Glancing at his bed, he momentarily wondered if he was still dreaming when he saw a hammock instead of his four-poster.

"You alright, Drake?" Greg asked sleepily. He, too, had a hammock instead of an actual bed.

"Yeah," Draco responded, picking himself up. He glanced at his alarm clock and winced at the hour.

"What'choo fall for?" the other boy asked, frowning slightly and sitting up.

"For the joy of having my brain smashed against the floor," he answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Gregory's frown deepened, and Draco added, "I had a bad dream, Greg. Go back to sleep."

He grunted and lay back down. Within moments, he was snoring again.

Sighing slightly, Draco went to get a fresh set of robes from his trunk, only to promptly stop and stare once he'd opened the lid. "Great," he muttered, pulling out a white cambric shirt and a pair of linen breeches, "it's gotten worse."

Shaking his head, he started toward the bathing room, pulling at the collar of his pyjamas and wondering why it was so bloody _hot_. The dungeons were normally cool and damp, even at the end of the school year when the temperature was on the rise—after all, not even magic could stop a few tons of water directly overhead from making its presence known. In the winter, of course, it was often frigid, the fireplace in constant use. Currently it felt more like a sauna, or a tropical rainforest, the air thick with moisture, almost suffocatingly so.

_It's almost like the castle has a fever_, he mused as he gratefully stepped into a cool shower.

But that was just ridiculous.

* * *

The shrill, grating calls of seabirds woke Hermione abruptly. She cracked her eyes open and took in her surroundings, not sure at first where she was. The vast amount of light blinded her for a moment, and she had the fleeting thought that she had somehow been transported to the sun since it was so hot. Once her vision cleared, however, it didn't take long to figure out her whereabouts; the neat rows of beds, made up in stiff, white sheets, the many privacy screens, and the matron bustling around the edges of the large room made her location quite obvious. The memories of yesterday reasserted themselves in her mind, and she drew in a breath, embarrassed by her collapse.

Madam Pomfrey—if that was still her name—glanced up. "Ah, good, you're awake," she said cheerfully, crossing the room with brisk steps. The matron looked her over with a critical eye, pressing the back of her hand to Hermione's forehead. Looking satisfied, she moved away. "Imagine my surprise, when I contacted the Commodore about your condition, that you were supposed to have come in the day _before_. Not a trace of a fever on you when you came in yesterday, mind, just simple exhaustion. What were you doing, child? Never mind. I'm not one to pry! Still, the Commodore said you were raving nonsense, and I wouldn't be a proper nurse if I didn't look into that. Is there anything you want to tell me, my dear?"

Hermione blinked, trying to come up with a likely excuse. However, her mind seemed unnaturally lethargic—perhaps due to the strange heat?—and the best thing she could come up with was, "Umm, I guess I was just tired. I feel fine now."

"Hmm," the woman responded speculatively, feeling Hermione's forehead again. "Well, after you get a good, fortifying breakfast in you, I suppose you're fit enough to leave. I just can't imagine what you were doing to get into such a state!" She tsked, shaking her head. "I'll go make your breakfast, then, shall I?" She didn't wait for an answer, disappearing into her office. She came back out a minute later, busying herself on one side of the room.

Hermione shifted uneasily, glancing at the door and wishing she was on the other side of it. She glanced back at the older woman in time to see her put something that resembled a fish head into a bowl. "Now where'd I put my cod liver oil?" the matron murmured to herself, disappearing into her office again.

Her stomach lurched in protest at the thought of that so-called fortifying breakfast. She glanced around frantically for her clothes so that she could escape, but all she saw was a dress slung over the back of a nearby chair. Her gaze jolted to the door at the sound of it opening to find a familiar blond slipping into the room.

Her jaw went slack when she saw what he was wearing. It was nearly the same outfit he had worn inside the daydream—loose, white cambric shirt, linen breeches, knee socks, and buckled shoes. Alarm zinged through her—had he been affected? Was she the only one left in the castle who knew what was happening? Would she soon fall prey as well? What would happen if all control was lost? Would things ever return to normal? Why—

"Well!" the matron exclaimed as she came out of her office, throwing up her hands. Hermione jumped, gaze darting back to her. "I don't know how it happened, but I seem to be out of cod liver oil! You stay right there while I go get some more from the store. Don't even _think_ of leaving! Understood?" she fixed the younger girl with a hard stare until Hermione nodded meekly. "I will be back shortly."

Hermione watched the witch leave, one corner of her mind noting that Draco—if it was still him—had disappeared. As soon as the door closed behind the matron, Hermione sprang out of bed, snatching up the dress since it was the only article of clothing she could see. What she was currently wearing—a light, white, excessively flowery nightgown—was definitely ill suited to move around the castle in. Not that the dress in her hands seemed much better. She stared at it, slightly horrified.

The top part was white, and seemed to be very loose fitting, with sleeves that would hang off her shoulders. The skirt was a darker color and seemed very … _fluffy_. There was also a leather strap that, if she wasn't mistaken, was supposed to go around her waist. She tried twice, in quick succession, to transfigure the dress into robes, but nothing happened.

"Wardrobe malfunction?" an amused voice asked.

Her heart leaping, she turned quickly to find Draco leaning against the end of the bed that had previously been hers. Why he always had to be leaning against something, she didn't know. It seemed, however, that her earlier fears were baseless. Trying not to display her giddiness, she lazily took in his outfit again. "It seems that I'm not the only one with that problem."

He scowled, plucking at his shirt. "Yes, well, it seems that the castle has decided that it's not going to stock robes of any sort for the time being. This is all there is."

"Great," she said sarcastically. "What's next … no, I'm not even going to say it. Hold on a minute and we'll go," she added, stepping behind a privacy screen.

As she changed, Draco told her about the theory he'd come up with and his subsequent discussion with Professor Snape. She hummed thoughtfully as she pulled the nightgown over her head and slipped into the dress. "I suppose that's possible, but Professor Snape is right, it's unprecedented. At least at Hogwarts. I'm not sure about anywhere else. Maybe after breakfast we can go back to the library, look for anything about accidental reactions between advanced warding spells and lesser Magicks," she added distractedly, scowling when the dress threatened to fall off and grudgingly tied the leather whatever-it-was around her waist to keep it in place. As it was, the sleeves refused to stay on her shoulders.

"I hate dresses," she growled aloud, coming around the privacy screen and tossing the nightgown onto the bed before snatching up her wand. She slipped it into her bag and lifted it, heading toward the door, already searching through her mind for anything she had read about that was even remotely similar to what Draco was suggesting.

"You look good in them," Draco muttered, moving to follow her.

"I—what?" she asked, stopping in her tracks and nearly doing a double take. She almost hadn't heard him. In fact, she was reasonably certain she hadn't at all.

He arched an eyebrow, and it would have been easy to believe him when he said, "I didn't say anything," except for the fact that his cheeks seemed unusually pink.

She hesitated a moment, unsure.

"We should go before Pomfrey comes back," he added.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, sending a horrified glance at the bowl Pomfrey had been preparing her "fortifying breakfast" in. "Yes, let's go. Quickly!"

She hurried to the door, though the dress kept her from using all the speed she would have liked. _Regardless of what Draco may or may not think_, she decided, _I am not spending the day in a dress_. _Maybe I can steal clothes from Harry. He's not much taller than I am_.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked, easily keeping up with her.

"Gryffindor Tower," she answered. "I need clothing that isn't going to fall off if I breathe wrong," she scowled, tugging at the sleeves of her dress. They promptly fell down again.

"Oh …" he answered, sounding disappointed. "I'll wait for you in the Great Hall, then."

For a moment, she didn't understand why he didn't simply wait in the common room, as Harry or Ron would have. Then she realized that a Slytherin in the Gryffindor common room would raise some unpleasant questions. And possibly end with several people in the infirmary. So she nodded agreement and they parted ways at the staircase.

She encountered only a few students on her way up, which wasn't unusual. It was still early, after all, and most students would be catching every minute of sleep they possibly could. What _was_ unusual, however, was that the few that she saw seemed to be in a hurry, practically running down the steps, and some were still pulling on articles of clothing.

The stairs were oddly cooperative. Not one moved while she half-ran up the steps, making her ascent quick and easy. She paused for a moment, looking up and down the massive stairwell—_none_ of them were moving, at all. She frowned thoughtfully, but then hurried onwards, eager not only to get out that blasted dress, but also to get down to the Great Hall.

She hurried into through the portrait hole, barely noticing the Fat Lady's scandalous new outfit—'pirate wench' was hardly an uncommon look now, after all.

The common room was deserted, which was slightly more unusual than not encountering anyone on the stairs. It wasn't _that_ early. Usually there were at least half a dozen students up and about, finishing the homework they had neglected the night before.

Shrugging it off, she took the stairs to the boys' dorms two at a time, fully expecting to find Harry and Ron still snoring in their beds.

She nearly panicked when the room was empty.

Forcing herself to take a breath, she looked at the situation logically. The beds were made, albeit somewhat sloppily, there was no sign of anything being wrong, other than the absence of the occupants—no sign of a struggle. "So they've just gone to breakfast early. No big deal," she reassured herself aloud. "Not like they just vanished into thin air."

She resumed her quest for better clothes, digging through Harry's trunk. Her hand brushed against something cool and oddly liquid as she pulled out a shirt and trousers. Blinking, she saw the silvery material of Harry's invisibility cloak, and the corner of a half-buried piece of parchment.

She hesitated. They could be useful. Harry certainly wasn't going to be needing them at any point in the near future. Pushing down her guilt at taking them without permission, she pulled out the Cloak and the Marauder's Map.

After a brief sweep of a few other rooms, she determined Gryffindor Tower to be completely empty. An equally brief glance at the open Map had displayed an unusually large gathering inside the Great Hall. Uneasy, she descended to the common room, deciding that she needed to investigate in person.

She nearly shrieked when she discovered someone waiting for her in the common room.

* * *

Draco stopped short upon entering the Great Hall, bewildered by the pandemonium. Breakfast was usually the quietest meal at Hogwarts due to various reasons. Some students preferred not to eat breakfast at all, choosing to sleep until the first class instead. Others ate early before heading to the library to finish whatever assignments they hadn't finished the night before. Still others grabbed something to eat at the last possible moment.

In other words, there were rarely more than twenty people in the Hall at once in the mornings, and those twenty were usually still half asleep, and thus quiet.

This was not the case today.

Seeing Theo waving at him, Draco made his way across the riotous room toward the Slytherin table, edging between a pair of seventh years who were fencing and a group of gambling fifth years cautiously.

"Hey Drake," Theo said once Draco had taken a seat. "I was starting to wonder if you were going to show up. Not that the professors seem to be interested in taking the role call today. Hell, I haven't seen any of them all morning."

_Role call_? he wondered, eyes widening.

As if on cue, four people strode purposely into the Hall. Some of the students, upon noticing the new arrivals, scrambled quickly into seats, abandoning whatever unruly activity they had been engaged in.

"What the hell?" Blaise muttered. "What are Rumrun and Pilfer doing here? Where're Captain Conk and Quartermaster Felid?"

"Shut yer trap, Spider. You know Captain Conk doesn't abide talkin' during role," Theo hissed.

'Spider' glowered at the other boy. "Conk ain't here, is he, Zippo? _You _shut it, don' tell me what to do."

"I outrank you, you stupid—"

"Not on land, you don't!"

Draco stared in disbelief as the argument continued, the language steadily devolving into barely understandable 'pirate talk' laced liberally with swearing. Theo and Blaise had never really gotten along before, but it had always been limited to undercurrents and subtleties, as many Slytherin feuds were. Draco had never heard them argue about anything, ever.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised. The spell had driven everyone _else_ over the edge, after all. His friends were hardly going to be immune. It did make him realize, however, that he wasn't spending as much time with his Housemates as he usually did. To be fair, he'd had other, more important, issues to deal with, but once things had gotten back to normal, he would have to make up for lost time.

He was determined, now more than ever, to help Snape as he had promised last year. If he could prevent it, none of his Housemates would ever join—

"Pilfer's comin' over," Vinny muttered, interrupting both Draco's thoughts and the argument between the two other Slytherins.

Draco glanced around quickly. The chaos had been conquered. The Ravenclaws were cowering before an irate Flitwick, who was randomly kicking dishes off the table he was standing on as he shouted at them squeakily. Sprout had the Hufflepuffs likewise in check, though there was slightly less cowering. Madam Hooch—or Rumrun, he supposed—was having some difficultly corralling the Gryffindors. Potter's voice was most prominent among the demands for information.

The Slytherins cooperated with quiet efficiency when Pilfer took the role call.

"Listen and listen well," Flitwick's voice filled the Hall, effectively silencing the Gryffindor dissenters. He turned on the heel of his boot, fixing everyone in sight with a stern glare. For such a short man, he was surprisingly imposing. "There will not be classes today," at these words a tangible wave of excitement passed over the student body, and he sneered. "Don't get too worked up, now, yeh ingrates. There will still be the daily chores _and more_, overseen by Mr. Pilfer and Mistress Rumrun." A few people groaned at this announcement, but most kept their grumblings to themselves. "You'll get your assignments from them after the meal."

He and Sprout left shortly thereafter, while Filch and Hooch stayed behind. Food appeared on the tables and everyone seemed to break into frenzied whispers all at once.

"What do you think that's about?" Theo asked, brows drawing downwards.

"Know what I heard?" Pansy asked, having just slipped into place beside Theo. "The Phoenix Council is here. Have been since last night."

Theo's eyes widened. "Does that mean … the captain of the _Blind Basilisk_ …?"

A few people within hearing gasped and others shifted uncomfortably. Pansy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear nervously.

"I don't know. No classes … they must think so. They're preparing for _something_ at any rate. What … what do we do?"

And suddenly they were looking at Draco.

* * *

**A/N2:** I will do my very best to not disappear on all of you again any time soon. I had the most horrible writer's block you could imagine from February to sometime in late May, I think it was. And at that point, a friend had convinced me to try and write something for a thing called the "Hermione Big Bang."

For those of you who don't know, the Big Bang is basically a celebration of a character's birthday—there have been Big Bangs for other characters as well—and interested fiction writers get together to each write a story that is to be complete and posted on the character's birthday.

I wrote thirty-three thousand words in three weeks once my writer's block had lifted, and then thirty thousand more in 5 more weeks in order to get a fiction done for it. So, yes. This means that I have a completed Dramione fanfiction that none of you have seen. It is not humor, as this is supposed to be, but if you're interested in seeing it, it can be found here (remove the spaces):

community. livejournal. com / hermionebigbang / 27797. html#cutid1

That takes you to a list of ALL the stories posted for the Hermione Big Bang. There are some really good stories there. Most are probably better than mine, so give them a look as well. They're listed alphabetically by author, so look for me amongst the L's (same penname as here.)

Due to the somewhat hurried way I wrote the fic, I am aware of there being plot holes, and eventually I plan to do what will probably be a rather extensive edit, and it won't be posted on fanfiction. net until I am more satisfied with it, but I would love to get some feedback on it in its current state.

As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Thanks to my betas, even though I argue with a lot of what you tell me, and thanks to my soul-sisters for helping me slack off … wait, I shouldn't thank them for that, should I? Oh well.

Until next time!


	13. Wisdom or Madness?

**Disclaimer:** JKR did not gift me with the rights of Harry Potter for Christmas. Maybe next year ....

**

* * *

**Chapter 13 (_Wisdom or Madness?_)

* * *

"Dobby, what's going on? Where are you taking me?" Hermione questioned, even though she knew from her three previous attempts at getting answers that it was futile. What little he had shared hadn't made much sense to her. She could, of course, physically stop Dobby from dragging her up the stairs to the girls' dorms, but she did want answers, and maybe they were at the top of the stairs.

She _did_ stop short upon discovering someone she didn't know, sitting on _her_ bed, reading _her_ books.

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

No, the woman couldn't be reading—not at the pace she was turning the pages. Was she looking for something, then?

It took the brunette a moment longer to realize that the woman's attention was on her, even as her fingers continued to flip through the book in her hands.

"Who are you?" she asked after a moment of silence that the stranger seemed unwilling to break.

Confusion flashed across the woman's face, her dark brows drawing down as if that question was the hardest thing she had ever been asked. Her gaze went to Dobby, who was fidgeting nervously beside Hermione, and her expression brightened. "I am here to help."

Hermione blinked, unsure how to respond to that. Now more curious than wary, she put aside her worry for her books—which the woman was still rifling through—and took a closer look at her "guest." Her long, black hair was loose, with two small braids dangling on either side of her pointed face. Her clothes weren't pirate-chic, which immediately caught Hermione's attention—the white dress seemed old fashioned, with long flowing sleeves and lace at the neckline. Hermione's examination ended at the pendent hanging at the woman's breast. A fine strand of gold, woven with an equally fine strand of silver, held up a black onyx pendent set in bronze. There was a figure carved in relief on the onyx—Hermione paused. Hadn't it been a badger a few seconds ago? A few seconds later it shifted from a lion to a snake, and she realized that it must be enchanted so that the design changed constantly.

_Great,_ she couldn't help but think. _This is __**just**__ what we needed_. _Another mystery._

_

* * *

_

Questioning the woman turned out to be about as informative as talking to a Quidditch fan during a game. If her vocabulary was rather limited, her attention span was even worse. Every time Hermione turned around, she was touching this or staring at that.

_She's like … Luna, but worse. Luna on __**drugs**__. _Hermione shuddered slightly at the thought.

Leaving her on her own had been out of the question. She still didn't know who exactly she was, or what her intentions were. Had everything else been normal, she would have taken her straight to Professor McGonagall, but that was hardly an option right now. Thus they were making their exceedingly slow way through the hallways, Dobby nervously tagging along.

When they finally reached the Great Hall, Hermione was hungry, impatient, and not at all happy. She turned to address the woman that was, for the moment, still following her. "Wait here, all right? I'll be right back."

The woman stared at her blankly for a moment before her attention turned elsewhere and she wandered toward the hourglasses that recorded the house points.

Hermione bit back a growl of frustration. "Watch her, Dobby. Make sure she doesn't go too far."

The house-elf nodded quickly, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to go after the mystery woman. Sending the pair one last look, Hermione slipped into the Great Hall.

The calls of sea birds were deafening. It seemed that the post had just been delivered and birds of all shapes and sizes were scattered throughout the room, either on the tables, circling overhead, or leaving through the slot by which they had come.

Her eyes sought out the Slytherin table almost of their own accord. She found Draco easily, frowning at a letter in his hand. He looked up after a second as if sensing her gaze, and their eyes met.

"Mione!"

Hermione's gaze jerked to find her two best friends hurrying toward her.

"Quick, 'fore Pilfer sees," Harry muttered, sending a furtive look over his shoulder.

Together, they practically dragged her back out of the room.

"What's going on?" she demanded once they had released her.

"Heard you were in the sick bay overnight. Surprised Knitbones let you out so early," Ron grinned, looking her up and down. "How you feelin'?"

"I'm bettin' Knitbones would be surprised too," Harry laughed.

"I'm fine," Hermione said, "but I doubt I would've been after that breakfast she wanted to feed me."

Both boys laughed at that. "Aye, that stuff o' hers is right nasty."

Harry grew serious then. "It's good yer feelin' right, 'cause there's somethin' off. Uncle's up teh somethin' and I jus' know it's about Snakeface."

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"The Council's all here," Ron told her quietly. "Saw 'em come in meself. Haven't heard nothin' from 'em though. They keepin' real quiet up there, whatever they're plannin'."

"If Uncle's gonna stay quiet, then we gotta find out what's happenin' on our own," Harry added.

Ron looked at him sharply. "You aren' thinkin' of going to see _her_ are you?"

"Aye. We're goin' North."

"But she's—"

"Our only shot."

"… Damn."

Hermione, of course, was completely lost by this point. "What—" she began, only to be cut off by a harsh word from Harry.

The boys' fierce glares and aggressive postures prompting her to turn around, she was unsurprised to find Malfoy exiting the Great Hall.

"Well if it isn't Conk's _personal_ little cabin boy," Harry scowled.

Draco stared at him blankly for a second before the insult registered. He sneered then, reminding her of the boy she thought she had known for the past six years. "I see your insults are still shining, little gems of wit, Potter. Bravo."

Confusion clouded Harry's face for a second before clearing, and she wondered if it was a reaction to being called by his proper name. Had she even tried to 'wake' them from their delusions? Maybe she could still get through to them! Too excited by the thought to remember anything else, she grabbed Harry's shoulders and made him look her in the eye. "Harry James Potter, you listen to me. You are not a sailor. Professor Dumbledore is not a sea captain, his name isn't Beesting, and he is not your uncle. You are a _wizard_ and there's a curse on the school. Do you hear me? None of this is real!" she gave him a little shake for emphasis. She searched his eyes hopefully, watching his confusion deepen.

"Really, Potter, even a dunderhead like you should've been able to figure that out," Draco added helpfully.

His brows came together, his gaze flickering to where Draco was standing and back to her.

"Come on, Harry."

"Oi, Gryffin, who's that?" Ron asked suddenly, tearing Harry's attention away.

Not for the first time, she wanted to smack Ron upside the head. He had just completely ruined any progress she had made, she just knew it. Despite that, she turned to see who Ron was pointing out—finding her mystery woman still examining the hourglasses.

"I dunno, mate," Harry responded, frowning. "Never seen her before."

"Quite the figure on her. Think she's friendly?"

Harry grunted noncommittally, then crossed the entrance hall before Hermione could stop him. He tapped the woman on the shoulder, making her turn around. They exchanged words that Hermione couldn't hear.

She felt oddly protective of the mysterious woman. She didn't understand her, who she was or where she had come from, but somehow Hermione knew that she was important. She was about to go over and intervene when Harry came back, the woman trailing behind him.

"Gryffin?" Ron questioned, hand going to his sword as he eyed the woman mistrustfully.

_When did he get a __**sword**__? _Hermione wondered, though the majority of her attention was on Harry.

"She's one of us," Harry answered simply.

Ron's brow furrowed. "How do you know she's not a spy from the _Basilisk_?"

"I'm here to help," the woman said, looking at Ron.

The tension and suspicion drained from Ron's stance, hand leaving his sword. "Ah."

"What the fuck?" Draco wondered aloud.

She had to agree with the sentiment, if not the language.

The boys snapped around, apparently just remembering Malfoy's presence.

"Malloy …" Harry snarled. His eyes went to the doors of the Great Hall for a moment before going back to the blond. "Since I don't trust you not to go tattle to Pilfer, I guess we'll just have to take you with us."

"Now hold on, Potter—" Draco began.

"Gryffin, is that really a good idea?" Ron asked at the same time.

"We have nothing to tie him up with, no guarantee he wouldn't be found even if we did. Safer to take him with us."

"Harry—Gryffin … I'll stay behind and watch him," Hermione offered, not wanting to spend the day being dragged to who-knew-where by her delusional friends.

Harry eyed her. "No. I want you with me. You're more apt to make sense out of whatever the witch tells us. Takes keen senses to translate her babble."

Despite several more attempts, she soon discovered that there was no way out of taking this journey with them. Exchanging a defeated glance with Draco, they fell into step and the boys led the way.

* * *

They really were going North. All the way to the North Tower, she realized with an internal groan. Surely they weren't going to see _Trelawney._ Surely the world couldn't have gotten _that_ deranged.

The long walk did offer her the opportunity to think over what had occurred in the entrance hall. The mystery woman—Em for short, she decided—had made one statement and had been instantly accepted by the boys. Even though Ron had been mistrustful at first, he'd dropped his guard as soon as Em had spoken. It was almost like mind control was involved.

Although, if it was mind control, why hadn't Em used it on her? She certainly didn't trust the woman the way the boys did.

Harry and Ron were slightly ahead. From the set of their shoulders, they were tense, as though they expected monsters to jump out at them at any moment. Occasionally one of them would glance back, undoubtedly to make sure "Malloy" hadn't run off. She might have been imagining it, but Harry seemed puzzled about something. Perhaps there was still hope of snapping him out of this trance.

She glanced at Draco then, who seemed both annoyed and intrigued by the situation. Seeing her attention on him, he moved closer to her.

"Any idea who she is?" he muttered, jerking his chin in Em's direction. The woman was flitting about ahead of them all, going from object to object like a curious pixie. She did it much faster now, as compared to the stop-and-stare method she had employed earlier.

Hermione shook her head, telling him what had happened when she went to Gryffindor Tower. She didn't mention the Marauder's Map, however, which still did not recognize Em's presence.

He frowned. "How they're treating her … it's the same as how everyone treated you in the daydream."

"What do you mean?"

"No matter what story you threw at them, they always believed it," he answered, raising an eyebrow. "You could have been whoever you wanted, and they let you do it."

She nodded slowly, remembering how Beesting readily had accepted her lame excuse toward the end. "So—is this _her_ dream, then?"

"How could it be? I thought we had already determined that if anyone else had been splashed, they would have joined us in the dream—it certainly wouldn't be causing _this_."

"All we have are theories. It seems extremely likely that a human would have joined us, yes. But what about something not human?"

"She looks pretty human to me. What else could she be?"

"I don't know."

They fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts as they drew closer to the North Tower.

The lighting started to dim with every step they took, increasing Harry and Ron's nervousness.

"Gryffin, are you sure 'bout this?"

"No, but we can't turn back now. She knows we're coming."

As if to prove his point, the hallway suddenly became pitch black. There was a girlish squeal, which, based on the direction it came from, had been emitted by Ron. Draco sniggered beside her.

A wisp of flame appeared in the distance, flickering wildly as if touched by wind. It hovered in midair, bobbing this way and that.

"Should we follow it?" Ron whispered.

"Aye. If the witch wants to see us, it will lead us to her."

"And if she doesn't want to see us?" Draco asked dryly.

"Then you die knowing that she wasn't feeling sociable," Harry sneered, turning and pushing Malfoy to the front.

"Oi!" the blond protested, only to go silent when Harry pulled his sword.

"Start moving."

"Harry, put your sword _away_," Hermione reprimanded him. "Someone could get hurt!"

"That's the point, 'Mione," Harry answered, jabbing Malfoy into motion.

"Oh, well, that makes it okay," she muttered sarcastically, hurrying to keep up with them.

They stopped in a long, empty hallway. The flame fizzled out, leaving them in complete darkness. A booming voice rang out, "Perils three must you defy, before your requests will I satisfy." A sheet of fire leapt up before them, making them all recoil. "Face the fire, if you dare, but of what lays beyond you must also beware."

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed, having to step back from the heat the fire put off.

Harry stared at the fire in shock for a moment before his face hardened. "Slytherins first," he said, jabbing at Malfoy again.

Draco took one step forward, then whirled. "Do that again, Potter, and I _will_ take that thing away from you."

Hermione saw movement out of the corner of her eye and, temporarily ignoring the boys' bickering, she turned to investigate. A tapestry swung back and forth slightly, as if someone had just brushed up against it. Pulling it aside, she discovered a hidden doorway, with lights coming from deeper in the room.

She attempted to get the boys' attention, to little success. "Oi!" she said more sharply.

This time they turned, and she simply gestured at the doorway.

"That looks a mite more inviting," Ron noted.

"That it does," Harry agreed. "Good work, 'Mione." He motioned toward the door. "After you, Malloy."

"Oh hell no," Draco protested.

Sighing, Hermione went in first, wanting to get it over with. She ignored the protests from the other side, examining the room.

Shadowy figures lined the walls and something moved above her on what looked to be a giant spider web. The lighting was dim, coming from a handful of guttering candles and a small glowing orb. A woman sitting behind the orb leaned forward, her face now illuminated. She had a line of eyes painted on each of her cheeks. It took Hermione a second to realize that she also had a set painted on her eyelids, making it look like her eyes were always open.

Recognition hit when she opened her real eyes.

"Luna!"

The blonde looked up. "Oh, hello, Hermione."

The boys came in before Hermione could think of a response.

Luna smiled at them. "I know why you have come." She motioned them closer, "Come, sit."

As she approached Luna, Hermione noticed a sixth person in the room—Em. She must have been what had caused the tapestry to sway.

Once everyone was seated, Luna stood from her seat—a floating Persian carpet—and moved to one side of the room. As she passed, she patted Em on the head as if she were a puppy, which the woman seemed unfazed by. Luna came back carrying a huge bowl, which she set neatly over the glowing orb. The liquid in the bowl began to glow now, making things a little brighter in the room.

Something chittered overhead, causing more than a few nervous upward glances.

As Luna stared into her bowl, Harry grew impatient.

"I came to have questions answered, witch, not to watch you stare into nothingness. I was told that you see all, know all—I want—"

"I know what you want," Luna interrupted, not looking up. "The questions you seek to ask are meaningless. Why the Phoenix Council has gathered, for what do they prepare—think! You know the answers! The future has been seeded firmly in the present. It does not take one such as I to see it! No, the knowledge you truly require is something you are blinded to. The world has changed from what it once was and what it will again be. Half of you have changed with it; half remain as they were."

She looked up then, her eyes seeming to glow abnormally as she gazed at each of them in turn.

"If reality is to be saved, Roonil Weatherby and Gryffin Jameson must again become Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. Between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, no secret must be kept, no desire left unspoken."

Hermione's mouth opened in surprise, but no sound came out. Was Luna affected or wasn't she? What did she know that they didn't—and _how_? Secrets … she had no idea what Luna might be referring to. She hadn't been keeping anything back from Draco. At least not about the situation at hand … as for desires—well what did that have to do with anything, anyway? Not that she had any. He was Draco Malfoy—though the name didn't have the same 'evil' ring as it had once had. Still, he would probably laugh at her if she expressed any hidden desire to run her fingers through his hair, any secret longing to feel his lips on hers—not that she wanted any of that. That would be ridiculous.

Luna then turned to Em, who had been all but forgotten. "The avatar has the most important role of all. She is the element on which the situation truly hinges."

"You're talking nonsense," Harry growled. "I want answers, witch. Not riddles!"

It seemed as though Harry was set to continue his rant for a while yet, but Luna didn't let him. Lunging forward like a striking cobra, she grabbed him on either side of his face. Using the element of surprise, she pulled his head down to the glowing bowl, whose contents jiggled like jelly when his nose touched them. Releasing the boy, Luna relaxed back onto her carpet, smiling softly.

Instead of righting himself, Harry stayed bowed over the bowl, his eyes wide and flickering as if watching something no one else could see.

"What have you done to him?!" Ron demanded, hand going to his sword.

"I am showing him what he needs to see," she said simply.

Ron didn't like that answer. He stood, drawing his sword. "Release him—" he began, only to break off in a terrified yelp when his sword turned into a very _large_ spider. It dropped to the floor and scurried into the darkness.

Luna sighed. "You'll get that back when you leave. Don't worry. It'll be your turn once Harry's finished."

Ron's eyes went wide and he glanced toward the exit. Then his eyes went back to the still-impassive Harry, and he slowly sank back to the pillow he'd been sitting on. He drew his legs up to his chest, gaze flickering around the darkness of the room as if afraid that a horde of spiders would come crawling from the shadows.

Seeing that Harry wasn't in any immediate danger, Hermione took the opportunity to question Luna. "Luna, you said something about an avatar …" she stopped, realizing that she didn't actually know what to ask.

Luna shook her head. "I am not the one to answer your questions about the avatar."

"Then who is?" she asked, frustrated.

Harry fell back from the bowl, gasping as if he had been underwater.

"Gryffin? You all right, mate?" Ron questioned.

"I—I'm not—" he stopped, scrubbing at his face with both hands and simply shaking his head.

"Don't fight it," Luna said calmly as she reached across and pulled Ron down to the bowl. "Things will be confusing until the end, but the confusion is necessary."

"Voldemort … this is Voldemort's doing," Harry muttered.

Hermione looked at him sharply. Voldemort was not a daydream word. Had Luna cured him?

"No," Luna said gently. "He will be drawn here. It is inevitable. It cannot, must not, be stopped. But it is not a plan of his own design. The messenger must not be blamed for that which he cannot control," she added, looking at Draco.

Draco spoke for the first time since they'd entered the room. "What the hell are you on about?"

Luna glanced at him, smiling knowingly. She didn't say anything, which seemed to unsettle him greatly.

It was Ron's turn to sit up with a sharp intake of breath. His face was pale and he seemed very disturbed. "What was that s'posed to prove? Fake names, fake memories—no!" he exclaimed, pulling back as Luna reached for him again.

"Why didn't it work?" Hermione asked, staring at the pale redhead.

"The magic has grown stronger as of late. Ronald is more firmly ensnared. No attempt has been made before to break him free and thus it clings all the tighter."

Something above them moved, making the "spider web"—interconnecting ropes, Hermione now saw—bounce. Strange shadows danced along the walls, attracting Ron's nervous attention. Taking advantage of the distraction, Luna shoved him down to the bowl again.

"Anyone can be woken if you show them the truth," Luna went on, "but some will be harder than others. Until the story is done, it will not be worth it to wake everyone, as they will likely fall to the magic again."

Ron came up again, but this time he didn't protest. He continued to stare at the bowl, obviously dazed from whatever he'd seen.

"That is all I can do," Luna said, standing and taking up the bowl again.

Hermione watched the blonde cross the room, more frustrated and confused than ever before. Not that such feelings were unusual after a morning spent with Luna.

She glanced back towards Harry and Ron in time to see a small shape descending from the web directly above Ron's head. It lowered itself to within an inch of Ron's face, making the boy recoil in surprise. Then it dropped something—a spider—into his lap.

He shrieked again, scrambling backwards on his hands. The small monkey flashed her a toothy smile before pulling itself back into the shadowy web. Then the lights went out and the audience was over.

* * *

Harry and Ron were still rather dazed and confused half an hour later when they all arrived at the library. They had barely acknowledged her presence and flat out ignored Draco's proximity. Which seemed to suit Malfoy just fine, as he had been brooding since they left. What little conversation had passed between them had been awkward and broken, the boys often delving into pirate speech before cutting themselves off completely. Normally she would have sent them off to find something else to do—they were never much help in research—but for now, she wanted to keep an eye on them. She didn't want them to relapse or something when she wasn't there.

Even through her worry for her friends, her mind whirled over what Luna had told them. Had the girl just been rambling? Was any of what she had said worth thinking twice about? Some of the things she mentioned—plus the fact that she had 'woken' Harry and Ron—made Hermione want to believe her, but on the other hand … an avatar? What on earth was that supposed to mean?

Was Em supposed to _be_ the avatar? Or did she know something about it? And what was it an avatar _of_?

And why did it seem so familiar?

First she retrieved a dictionary from the shelves, making sure she understood the word properly; it wasn't exactly a word used in everyday conversation.

It seemed that an avatar could be the human embodiment of anything—a deity, a concept, a philosophy—which didn't actually help her. Leaving the dictionary on the table, she gave the boys a cursory glance before heading back to the shelves. Ron had buried his face in his arms, leaning against the table as if he wanted to shut the world out … either that, or he was asleep. Harry was still sitting up, but he was staring blankly at the table, apparently lost in his own thoughts. Em had followed them to the library, but had disappeared once they were all inside and Hermione hadn't seen her since.

She wasn't sure where Draco had gone, either.

Hermione forced her mind back to the issue at hand. She was certain she'd read something about an avatar before, but was it related? It would help if she could remember _where_ she'd seen it.

She vaguely remembered something about an ancient battle at Hogwarts, but it hadn't been in _Hogwarts, A History_. What book had it been in …?

She moved further back into the shelves, biting her lip as she scanned the titles, trying to remember. She gnawed on it a bit as she moved, so focused on the titles that she didn't notice the other person watching her from the other end of the aisle. She nearly bumped into him before noticing he was there. She looked up with wide eyes once she sensed his presence, lip still captured between her teeth.

There was something about him, something about his aura that seemed different. It was as though he had been thinking hard about something and had come to a decision. He was serious. Intent. Focused.

Focused on _her_. Like she was the only thing there.

Draco half smiled. It was really more of a smirk.

With one finger, he gently pulled her lip from between her teeth.

Unconsciously, she wet her lips in a nervous habit.

"Anything I can help with?" he asked quietly.

"I—" The pronoun stumbled from her mouth, looked around in bewilderment, then wandered off; it took the rest of her vocabulary with it.

Swallowing thickly, Hermione simply shook her head. He hadn't taken his eyes off her. The castle had been warm for a while, but now it felt like it was on fire. Was the air supply depleting? Was that why it was so hard to breathe?

"Hmm," he murmured. "I was thinking about what Lovegood said … about desires."

She was dreaming. This couldn't be real.

"Oh?" she replied, too breathless for anything else.

They were drawing closer together. She knew what was going to happen. Or she hoped she knew. She had felt this with him before, but now it was so much more intense.

"I think she was right."

They were inches apart now. He leaned closer, but hesitated, as if giving her a chance to back away, to deny what was happening between them.

And what was happening between them? Was this a one-off, or something more?

Did she care?

She closed the gap.

* * *

**A/N:** Happy Holidays! Remember to review, please. As always, thanks to those who do, and thanks to my betas and friends.

(P.S. Yes, they're finally getting somewhere romantically. *gasp*)


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